When Your Heart Stops Beating
by Justified12
Summary: AU. Vampires. Bloodlust. Desire. Love. - Set in the True Blood universe. Brittana.
1. Chapter 1: Bad Things

**So this story was originally going to be a short one. But the creativity bug bit me and gave me too many ideas.  
**

**Beware, this may be kinda dark. And it might include some True Blood references that could be unfamiliar to those who don't watch the show... but those will be explained throughout.  
**

**Also, just want to mention, I might not follow the True Blood universe 'lore' to the letter. So if you **_**are**_** an expert on that stuff and you see me bending the rules, know that I'm just doing it for the sake of the story =)**

* * *

_Santana_

Over two-hundred years old and where do I find myself sitting on a pathetic, self-loathing Friday night? In a damn redneck bar, somewhere in 'fuck knows' Louisiana.

How did I get here? That's a long story. One I can't even be bothered contemplating as I finish off my second Tru Blood for the evening and wipe the faint, crimson stain from the corner of my lip.

It doesn't help. Not even close.

I'm surrounded by the lowliest of the disgusting plague that calls itself 'humanity', the smell of stale cigarettes and sweat and overcooked cow-meat permeating my nostrils. Idiotic hicks are dancing in couples by the shoddy old jukebox, overweight truckers choking down beer and playing pool, the waitresses screeching orders across the bar. If I didn't still ache for the satisfaction that only human blood could give me, I might wish the whole lot of them never existed in the first place.

But then again, if they didn't, neither would I.

After all, I used to be one of them. A long, long time ago.

I cringe at the irrelevant memory.

Tonight, my patience is severely dwindling. I'm about a half-second away from sweet-talking the next pretty young girl I see, taking her out back and ripping into her jugular, just to quench the unbearable need to surrender to my animalistic side.

It has been so long since I fed on someone. As much as I'd like to pretend I want to mainstream for the good of us all, Tru Blood can only extinguish the thirst so much. Besides, I can always glamor the memory away. And then I can simply get on my bike and move on to the next town before anyone is the wiser.

I eye the throngs of bar patrons, trying to spot a worthy mark, but then a scent hits me. Strong. Perforating. Unlike anything I've ever experienced before.

It's syrupy and light. It's innocence and purity and sex all rolled into a single, sensory explosion. And somehow, it reminds me of what I think sunshine used to feel like.

My fangs instantly spring forth in hunger, fingers making grooves in the wood of the table in front of me as I force myself to remain seated. I don't even know where the heavenly scent is coming from.

I only have to wait a few moments to find out though.

With a sharp increase in intensity, the source of the aroma bursts through the bar door. She flicks her golden hair and sends a wave of ecstasy my way as she makes her way over to the counter. A low growl rumbles up into my throat and I feel the eyes of a few nearby hicks following me closely.

Her eyes are blue-gray, clear and wide, searching for assistance. Long fingers flex to hit the bell on the counter and a shiver runs up my spine at the sound.

"Excuse me?" A timid, sweet voice. "I'm having some car trouble and I was wondering if I could I use your phone?" She asks politely when the bartender steps up to her.

She can't be much older than 18. And although I feel the self-hatred already soaking what little remorse I still possess, I know I have to have her. The twitching of my tense muscles is a testament to that. Control is not an option. She smells too good. Far better than any human I've ever encountered.

First though, I have to get her alone. And knowing I can't give away my true motives just yet, I force my fangs back into hiding and I'm out of my seat and standing beside her, blurring the air with my speed before the bartender can even respond to her request.

"Maybe I can help you with that."

She turns, an oblivious smile gracing her gentle features. "Really?" There's a light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks, the pale pink of her lips glistening slightly with gloss. Up close her scent is even more irresistible. I feel my nails piercing the skin of my palms despite their shortness. She's so naive. So sweet. So beautiful. The epitome of the small town country girl without any of the coarse, trashiness of the other occupants of the bar.

"Yes." I practically pant.

I don't know how much longer I can restrain the urge to tear into her creamy, supple flesh. The rhythmic beating of her pulse is taunting me, echoing loudly in my ears like a drum calling me to war. In complete opposition to my cool body temperature, my skin feels ablaze with want. She's all around me.

"I'm a mechanic." A blatant lie but a perfect opportunity to withdraw us both from prying eyes. I do know a thing or two about cars. I reason that it won't be hard to fake having such a menial job.

I watch her appraising me. I wonder if she can tell what I am by simply looking at me. The bartender seems anxious to warn her.

"I know I don't dress like it, but I am." I flash a charming smile - the first that I've managed in longer than I remember. I know it must be slightly pained with the force of my self-control. My head has begun to spin and weigh heavy on my shoulders. Never before have I felt such a felt deep, painful call to feed. Not even when I was first made.

She twists her thin lips in thought and pauses for a long moment. Her stare is both confused and curious. I impatiently glance over to the ever present, jumpy bartender, silently demanding he back away if he knows what's good for him.

Finally, she relents. "Okay, my car's just outside." With a carefree shrug, she spins on her heel and leads the way out.

I briefly entertain the thought that she's probably never even seen a vampire up close before. We've only been 'out' in public for about six months or so. And this is an incredibly small town. If another of my kind had ever set foot within a few yards of her, I'm sure she would have lost her throat long ago.

Although it's a warm evening, the atmosphere is much less suffocating once we're out in the parking lot alone. With the bar behind us, I have to fight even harder not to lunge forward and hold her down so viciously against the hood of the nearest car that the bones in her wrists shatter.

"It's this one here." She perks up brightly, gesturing towards a fully-restored, black, 1967, Ford Mustang GT.

I quirk one disbelieving eyebrow at her. "_That's_ your car?"

She giggles - a tingling lullaby to my ears. "Well technically it's my Dad's."

"That explains it." I hum and take a step forward, clenching my jaw with the need to inhale deeply once I draw closer to her. "So what's the problem?"

"I'm not sure. There was smoke coming from under the hood while I was driving. Do you want me to pop it open for you?" She scrunches her nose in question.

I nod and trace every movement she makes as she glides gracefully over to the driver's door and opens it to reach inside. I feel my jaw and lips twitching at the way the lean, defined muscles in her legs flex beneath her cut-off denim shorts as she bends over, her perfect ass wiggling inadvertently when she drops down further to release the lock on the hood.

When she straightens back up, gaze expectant and sunny, I stalk over to the naked engine.

This is probably the part where I should tell her to turn on the ignition so I can try and determine what the problem is. But I have no intentions of fixing anything for her. There's nobody else outside. We're all alone. And when she sidles up next to me, curious eyes darting down to the place where my hands are absently fiddling with a meaningless screw, I know I have her exactly where I want her.

"My name's Brittany by the way." She rattles off, her tone somewhere between friendly banter and light flirting. She rests her elbows on the strip of metal lining the front side of the hood, watching patiently as I 'work' and giving me a pristine view of the cleavage peeking out from beneath her atypical white tank top.

Beneath my lips, my sharp canines jut out once more and stop me from responding. Everything about her is teasing me. I wait a beat, knowing I can't prolong this anymore. My stare is fixed to the large vein bobbing up and down on her neck. It mimics the itching of my fangs, the throbbing between my legs.

Her brief air of playfulness is wiped away when she senses the change. She suddenly flinches and levels her back. "Are you okay?"

I allow my lips to part just slightly.

Her eyes widen in recognition. "You're... You're a..."

I snarl and surge forward, unwilling to even let her finish her sentence. One of my arms wraps around her body, holding her close and pinning down her fighting limbs, while the other wrenches open the back door of her car. I throw her inside.

She looks absolutely terrified, sprawled out on the leather backseat. And she's starting to smell even better than before.

My eyes roll back into my head for a brief moment at the blissful fragrance and a delighted smirk crosses my lips.

Then I propel myself inside with her, slamming the door shut behind me before straddling her prone form. I deftly pinch her arms to her sides with my knees and waste not a second longer before sinking my teeth into her virgin neck like it was warm butter.

Her heavenly taste gushes into my mouth and I moan. It's so much better than I imagined. I'm swallowing mouthful upon mouthful and begging for more.

If I were paying attention, I might hear her fearful pleas for me to stop, but I don't. I can't focus on anything besides the warmth of her blood, the thick and sugary spurts, and that way it makes my tastebuds crackle. A furious tingle is making its way down my throat and heating my torso as I take all that she has to offer and make it a part of me.

I feel her hands twitching at her sides. Her legs are kicking at the door beneath me. But I just bite down harder, spurred on even more by her fighting.

Her alarmed struggling eventually dies down and she releases defeated moans of agony and rapture. I've heard it so many times. I know that being drained is simultaneously both an excruciating and euphoric experience. Yet her sounds are somehow different. They bring goosebumps to my arms and make me press my hips down in search of friction.

In my frenzied feeding, I surprisingly find it within myself to tear my mouth from the glory that is her jugular, to stare into her half-closed, doe eyes.

"What are you?" I groan, enchanted, and not really caring about the answer. She's too exhausted and overwhelmed to reply anyway.

I scratch over her exposed biceps appreciatively with my fingernails, licking at the fresh layer of blood coating my lips. She is even more beautiful like this. She knows I'm going to kill her but there is a strange flicker of trust in her face, like she too feels that unspoken connection that is tugging at the pit of my stomach. Like this is how it's meant to be. This is where it's supposed to end for her.

I can't dwell on it any longer though. I reattach my mouth to her neck, the other side this time, just to feel the thrill once again of piercing her previously untainted flesh. She whimpers loudly, her whole body jerking up in pain. I smile against her skin, sucking down every last drop she has to offer.

She tastes better than any love, any happiness, any paradise I've ever even dared to dream of. I feel her muscles uncoiling, giving in completely. I let go of where my hands hold down her shoulders and use them to hold her head. Her hair is soft as I tangle my fingers in it and smells like strawberries and cream.

Her heart slows as her breathing starts coming in desperate, pained gasps. The heavenly stream flowing into my mouth is thinning. I suck harder, unwilling for the pleasure end. Her sob is barely audible this time.

I ravage and consume and digest until nothing remains.

And then finally, everything stops.

I open my eyes, leisurely pull out my fangs from within her and lap at the area surrounding the deep puncture marks. I want to bask in every last remnant I can find. If her blood was spilt onto a filthy men's room floor, I would gladly fall to my knees and lick it up. That's how incredible it tastes.

Eventually though, there is none left and I sit back to observe my work. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream and her fingernails are pressed so hard into the seat that her cuticles are tinged with red.

For a few moments, I'm content to stare at her lifeless form, a pleased smile on my face and a steady, satiated throb in my chest... but then my gaze falls on her still open eyes.

The vibrant blue is completely dulled. For some unknown reason, it physically hurts me to see them so devoid of life, and I can't help the panic that begins to rise like bile. Why does it feel like I've done something wrong?

I can easily cover up a murder. I've done it hundreds of times in the past. It's not like I've never gotten carried away while feeding before. So I know that it's not my survival instincts kicking in. It's something much more.

My heart, the useless muscle that lies limp in my chest and unable to beat, is aching. I want to see her eyes again.

No, I need it.

More than I needed to taste her. More than I needed to drain her life away.

I need to give it back - if only so that I can see the sparkling light that once dwelled in stormy blue.

I don't understand why she is so important or why I crave her presence so intensely now that it is gone. I can't even begin to comprehend this unfamiliar sense of shame and regret that is urging me to act.

So I just follow it blindly. My intuition has never steered me wrong before. And if it's telling me to make her, to bring her back to the waking world so that I can claim her as my own, I will relent.

She will be my first. My companion. My daughter. My progeny.

I break open the veins on my left wrist with my still erect fangs and gently lean forward to grasp her jaw. I hold my arm out over her tongue and allow the dark red droplets to land in her mouth. I stay in that position for perhaps longer than I need to, reopening the wound when it automatically heals itself. I want to be absolutely satisfied that she will return to me once I'm through.

When my body mends itself for the third time though, I realize I have done more than enough. I reverently close her eyes with my fingers, stopping for a moment to stroke along her cool, pale cheek. I let a faint smile creep onto my lips. When she wakes up, she will be mine. Forever.

But first, we need to sleep.

With an impatient grunt, I remove myself from her wondrous curves and open the door. If her car's engine was in better condition, I would really enjoy taking it for a spin. It is, after all, a beautiful machine. And it would make transporting her body to the nearest cemetery or vacant field that much easier. The alternative is my bike. I know it's going to be awkward at best to keep her balanced in front of me while I steer. Although it seems as if I have no other option at this point. I need to get out of here before the bar closes and patrons begin piling out, eager to gawk and protest as I carry off my young victim.

I wistfully wonder if maybe we can come back for her car another time.

A short time later, I am arranging her precariously on the seat of my dark platinum, _Ducati Streetfighter –_ an excellent pickup from the garage of a pretentious businessman in Baton Rouge. That idiot had about as much clue as to how he lost his bike and about three-thousand dollars out of his safe as he did that his teenage daughter was a hardcore fangbanger.

Man that was a sweet deal.

But that's another story, and I have much more important things to focus on as I slide in behind her, her body flopping back into me, fair head lolling to the side. The whisk of hair against my neck tickles when I kick-start the engine. I push down the childish urge to bury my face in its softness and with a firm twist of my wrist, we roar from the gravel parking lot, leaving a trail of grey dust in our path when we peel onto the road.

It's only a few miles down the road when my night-trained eyes land on the perfect spot – a semi-secluded field, with ancient oaks framing the outskirts. I settle my bike behind the largest trunk I can find, ensuring it's not visible from the road.

And then I sigh deeply.

I don't have a shovel. Fuck.

I refuse to get dirt under my fingernails. And it occurs to me then that I can't do this by myself even if I wanted to. I'll need some help covering us once we're in the ground. I guess she won't be my little secret after all.

Draping Brittany over my shoulder, I take a few steps into the field and lie her down gently on the dead grass. Then, with several annoyed cracks of my neck, I reach into my pocket to retrieve my cell phone and jab two on the speed dial.

"Mike? I'm gonna need a hand."

* * *

My brother - not by blood, but joined through our maker - is all too ready to offer the assistance I need. Michael and I have always been there for each other in decades past, and though he is an enthusiastic advocate for mainstreaming and departed from his murderous ways long ago, he doesn't judge me too harshly for my indiscretion. He understands the compulsion to feed and the ongoing struggle to maintain control.

With an oddly proud nod and a promise to be on call should I need his help the following night, Mike buries us in the dirt with the care of a doting mother placing her tiny infant into a crib. He's eager to meet the new addition to our family. I can tell.

Once we are completely covered, I hold tightly to Brittany's corpse, smelling as the early morning sunlight begins to permeate the earth around us. I know my slumber will be a peaceful one. I will embrace the visions of her formerly brilliant blue eyes and the lingering memory of her muffled screams, because when I return to the conscious world, I will have her once more.

Brittany and I will be together. She will belong to me until the skies turn dark and the ocean is sucked dry. And we will embrace the end of time as one.

* * *

I am woken abruptly from my contented slumber by an incensed growl. Brittany claws out from our resting place, wasting no time in discovering her newfound speed and strength, and let's out an inhuman cry.

I'm not far behind her, springing to my feet and attempting to grasp her by the shoulders. She's pulling at her hair. Her fangs are bared and she's twisting and writhing violently. She's wild. Just like all newborns are at first. I remember the feeling well. The hunger, the rage, the blinding confusion.

"Brittany." I beckon firmly. I take her by the face and force her to look at me. "Calm down."

When her eyes find mine, I can't help the sudden relief that floods through me. That intoxicating spark is back. The connection is not lost.

But the sight of me only seems to anger her more.

"You!" She snarls. Her voice is nothing like that soft melody I recall from the previous night. "W-what's going on? Why do I feel so different? What am I?"

I stare into cloudy blue. "You know what you are." I say knowingly.

She glances down, eyes darting over my feet in disbelief. She can feel what she has become. It courses through her now stagnant veins. I permit her a few more moments of silent contemplation before I speak again.

"My name is Santana." I tilt my chin up proudly. "And I am your maker."

"Maker?" She looks back up and furrows her brow at me. "You... You turned me into... _this?" _She grits her teeth together. She must know she doesn't threaten me. I find it endearing that she tries regardless.

I nod once in confirmation.

I suspected this would happen. Young vampires rarely take well to the change. They begin their immortality with self-hatred and bitterness. They blame their creators for ripping away their humanity, for turning them into soulless creatures of darkness. And although she may resent me now, she will soon be grateful for the gift I have given her. Once she sees her power, her freedom, her strength, she will thank me. She will worship my very existence for granting her the opportunity to walk in a world that so many could only dream to set foot in.

"No." She shakes her head and thrashes in my hold. "I... I don't want it... You can't do this."

"It's done Brittany. I have given you a chance... a chance to become so much more than your mortal life could ever allow."

"But... my mom and dad... my little sister... my friends..." Crimson tears are leaking from the corners of her eyes.

I pull her head into my shoulder and make noises of comfort while I stroke some clumps of dirt from her hair. "I am your family now. You don't need anyone else."

She propels me back with a sharp push. "No! Leave me alone!" She screams.

Before I can say anything more, she has taken off at full speed, her blur weaving between the trees at the edge of the nearby road and carrying on into the distance.

I sigh and roll my eyes. What a stubborn girl. I know I'm going to like her already. With her glistening white fangs and deathly pale skin, she is somehow even more beautiful and graceful now than she was before.

Within about thirty seconds, I've caught up to her. I pounce, tackling her to the ground.

"The quicker you accept this and move on, the quicker I can show you how incredible it is to be a vampire." Being on top of her again reignites my feelings from last night and my own fangs extend forth impatiently. She is so enticing spread beneath me on the ground...

But there are much more pressing matters at hand. I don't have time for lustful cravings.

The brief moment of distraction enables her to make her move. She's flexible. I can tell by the way she twists her legs up and flips us over so she can straddle my shoulders. "I don't want to be a vampire."

"Come on, Brittany. You must be hungry." I smirk below her.

Her nose and lips twitch. "No."

My smirk only grows. "You can't lie to me. I know that you want nothing more than to rip into the veins of some feeble human's neck... Do you really think your so-called family and friends would understand you now? You can't go back to them. So why are you running?"

A flash of hurt and recognition crosses her features. She knows that I am right. "No." She shakes her head again, climbing off of me. "I... I can't."

Her voice wavers. I know her restraint is wearing thin. Despite the sadness of her loss, she can't deny her natural instincts.

"Just let me find someone for you to feed on." I sit up, casually fixing my hair. "Once you've eaten, things won't seem so dire. I promise."

She watches me for a long moment. Her thoughts are most likely a turbulent war of what she was previously taught to believe was right and wrong. She doesn't realize yet that none of that matters anymore.

"No!" She suddenly roars, turning in place to bolt off into the distance once more.

I'm not in the mood to chase her again though. We haven't got time for this little game. She needs to feed and I need to show her how. I need to guide her through these first difficult hours. And once she is no longer ravenous, and has taken a moment to accept her fate, things will be much easier for both of us.

"Brittany! As your maker, I command you to stop!"


	2. Chapter 2: Change

**Sorry for the wait guys.  
**

**Hope the True Blood references don't start to trip people up. I suppose this story will become a semi-crossover now but... don't fear - the focus will remain on Brittana. Always Brittana.**

** I'll try to explain anything that sneaks in though for those who are not TB fans. If you're not sure about anything, feel free to PM me too :) ****For example, in this chapter: AVL = American Vampire League. Everything else should be explained in time.**

******As always, thanks go to my lovely Beta!Jay for the help! **  


******Oh and warning for minor character death. But that's probably going to happen a lot so... yeah lol  
**

* * *

_Brittany_

My muscles lock up instantly at her words and I almost fall flat on my face trying to fight the momentum. I was running so fast... How did she do that? Why can't I move?

"Wh-"

"Good girl." Santana purrs and steps up behind me.

Her voice, although smooth and teasing, hurts my ears. In fact, everything hurts. My skin stings, my muscles burn, my stomach roars in hunger... and my chest feels so empty and so heavy at the same time. It's like I've just woken up from a really deep sleep, only to find that the whole world has changed while I was off dreaming. Nothing feels the same. I don't remember shapes being so sharp or air smelling this intensely. And I definitely don't remember the almost painful clarity that is suddenly allowing me to think faster and more precisely than ever before.

My inner thoughts sound practically foreign.

Wait... foreign? Did I really just use that word in my head? I sound like a text book.

It's like... I'm still me. But I'm also not.

"I know you're wondering how I made you stop... Correct?"

I nod slowly.

"As your maker, I have a certain... _control_ over you. If I can avoid it, I will not enforce this power unless it is to keep you from harm. However, you're going to have to learn to trust me if this relationship is going to work, Brittany." Santana rounds on me and touches my cheek softly. "I don't want a slave. If I was merely looking for something to follow me around and obey my every command, I would have gotten a dog." She smiles. "That's not why I made you."

I ignore the little jump in my stomach when her fingers graze the corner of my mouth. I'm still mad at her... furious actually. But it doesn't change the fact that she's incredibly sexy and intimidating and it's making me all gooey inside. "Why_ did_ you make me then? Why bother to turn me at all when you could have just left me there to die?"

Her brow furrows. She takes a long moment to think about it. "I... I suppose I saw something in you that I wanted to know more about... I sensed that maybe you had more to offer than what simply met the eye."

I stare in disbelief, feeling my jaw hanging open stupidly. "What does that even mean?"

Her dark gaze flickers down to the ground before returning to my face. "Why I made you is not of your concern at the moment."

Ever stubborn, I roll my eyes at her and scoff.

"Right now, you need to listen to me and allow me to help you through the transition." Santana nods, mostly to herself, and then fixes her eyes on mine firmly. "And don't bother trying to hide from me. I know what you're feeling. I sense it just as keenly as my own emotions. I'll be able to pick up on any danger you might be in, or any fear or anger you may experience, even if I am hundreds of miles away."

"Great." I mumble sarcastically. I might not be her slave but the more she tells me about our new 'bond', the more I feel like her prisoner. It's unsettling and irritating. Why should she have any right to my thoughts and emotions? She's a stranger to me.

A car engine rumbles faintly in the distance and Santana smirks when she takes a step back from me and towards the nearby road. "Now Brittany, watch and learn."

I'm really starting to get sick of this high and mighty attitude she has, but I cross my arms over my chest and observe in silence as she strolls over, sticking out her arm to flag down the vehicle.

"Can't we just go buy some Tru Blood?" I ask a little nervously, trying to keep my voice hushed.

"No vampire's first meal should be that disgusting, manufactured swill. Your body's first instinct would be to reject it and you'd probably spit it right back in my face." She says through gritted teeth. "_I _can barely stomach it as it is."

"But I don't want to hurt anyone-"

The old red pick-up truck slows and cuts off my complaint. I can already feel my nostrils flaring at a scent that I can only imagine is the human inside. I know what's going to happen now, and yet, I don't jump out and scream for the driver to get away while they have a chance like I know I should... I just stand there in the shadows, enthralled and curious.

"Hey there." Santana flirts, gliding over to the car and leaning into the open driver's side window.

"H-hi." The kid replies. My ears prick up and I recognize his voice instantly. I know him.

"Me and my girlfriend got super lost out here in the woods, all by our lonesome, and now we're all cold and hungry and afraid." Santana glances over her shoulder and winks at me. I just roll my eyes at her again. "Don't suppose a big, strong man like you could give us a ride now, do ya?"

"Uh... I... uhm... I guess I could uh..." He stutters, shuffling in his seat to get a better look at me. "Hang on. Brittany? Is that you?"

_What's she doing out here?_ I hear him think.

It's the first thoughts I've heard since I woke up. Ever since I can remember, I've been able to listen to the words people only say in their heads. I'm not sure why exactly. Growing up, my parents just told me I was _special_ and that apparently my grandma had the same sorta _gift_ when she was still alive. They also made sure to warn me that I needed to keep my ability a secret. People didn't exactly take kindly to a girl who could eavesdrop on all their deepest, darkest thoughts and desires 24/7. So I tried to ignore it as much as possible.

Of course, it didn't completely work... but as I got older, I eventually got better at blocking what I did and didn't want to hear. The odd perverted remark or dark, violent image occasionally slipped in. But mostly I was good at managing my little quirk. Even if I had no idea what it was or where it came from.

The pierce of Finn's inner voice through the virtually unnoticed silence I'd been experiencing though made me realize that I hadn't been working at all to block Santana's thoughts from my head – not when we first met in the bar and not when I woke up with her in the dirt.

I'm not sure whether to feel relieved or confused. It's not me. I haven't lost my mysterious ability because I'm a vampire now. It's her. Why can't I hear what's going on in her head?

I make myself shake it off when I notice Santana glaring at me impatiently. Now isn't the time. I'll deal with it later. I duck my head and move a little closer to the car. "Hey Finn."

Santana raises her eyebrow. She looks pissed. "You two know each other?"

"Kinda. We go- I mean, we _went_ to school together." I correct myself bitterly.

"Is that right?" Santana teases, turning back to Finn. "So big man on campus, how's about giving me and my girl here a ride home?"

_Holy shit. Look at those tits. _Finn muses while nodding dumbly. It isn't until Santana's strolling around to climb into the passenger seat that I realize what she's going to do. Before I can even take another step, I hear a muffled, obviously male scream and the sickening crack of bones. I scrunch my eyes closed.

"Britt-Britt... why don't you come over here?" Santana sing-songs and I can practically hear the smirk in her voice.

With heavy feet and a sinking feeling in my stomach, I drag myself over to the car. It's only when the toes of my sneakers collide with the front tire that I finally open my eyes.

Finn's head is hanging down limply to the side, his pupils dull and lifeless and his jaw slack.

He's dead.

I frown but I don't really feel anything. I don't cry. I don't throw up at the sight of his bones protruding out, showing off his broken neck. I just stand there.

I know Santana killed him and I should feel angry and disgusted... and I do... but mostly, I'm still just really hungry.

"Open the door." Santana says calmly from her place in the seat beside him.

I obey her and tug the driver's side open, sliding in so that his bulky body is sandwiched between us on the front bench seat of his truck. She grabs hold of his hair with one hand and yanks his head so that his neck is exposed to me.

"I thought I'd make it easy on you. You get to eat and I don't have to hear you whine about how you feel guilty for killing." Santana stares at me eagerly.

After a few long seconds, when I haven't moved, she raises her eyebrows. "Well? Go on then. Take a bite. It may not be as tasty as it would be if you were draining him live... blood hot and pumping and laced with adrenaline... but it's delicious nevertheless."

I feel my fangs extend at her surprisingly mouth-watering description of human bodily fluids and lick my lips. The body of a boy I've known since I was five years old lies in front of me completely stripped of all life. And even though I never really liked him (because he was boring and awkward and always smelled like potato chips and cheap body spray), I feel like a monster for the way I'm dying to tear him apart.

Santana frowns at my hesitation, almost as if she's surprised that I'm able to control myself long enough to even doubt, before slowly leaning over Finn's body to slide a hand behind my head. "It's okay Brittany... Trust me."

The slight pressure on the back of my neck is the final straw. I allow myself to lean in and sink my fangs into his thick neck.

Warm, syrupy liquid floods my mouth and throat like hot cocoa. I hear myself moan quietly but I'm unable to care. It's incredible. Fireworks are shooting off behind my closed eyes and my whole body feels tingly as I suck down his heat and let it fill me up. Santana's grip tightens in my hair and massages at my scalp. Her pleased little hum lets me know that she's very much enjoying the sight before her.

"Open your mouth wider and tilt your head a bit... you're losing some of it." She instructs while her fingers nudge me in the right direction. "Make a seal with your lips on his skin."

There's blood smeared across my cheeks now. It's sticky and I want to be grossed out. But I'm not.

"You can't help getting a little messy when you feed but I want you to learn at least _some_ table manners." Santana chuckles. I can barely hear the raspy sound over the high pitched rushing in my ears though.

Not only is the taste of Finn's blood better than any flavor I ever thought could possibly exist in this world but the feeling it's giving me is like a cross between an orgasm and the sharp burn you get from climbing into a bath where the water's a bit too hot. I feel like I'm drowning and flying and drunk off my ass all at the same time.

I can already feel myself getting addicted to it.

All too quickly though, the stream slows. I keep sucking and burrowing my teeth further into him, trying desperately to get some more but I begin to notice I'm only gnawing through blood-less, chewy muscle.

Santana tugs at the back of my head gently until I eventually detach and sit back.

With a kind smile, she brings her hand around to cup my red stained cheek.

"Feel better?"

I just sit there, stunned into silence, my eyes locked on Finn's neck and the now gaping, shredded mess of flesh that I created.

That I created.

"Brittany?"

What seem like hours of stillness and silence go by. I feel like the whole car is spinning.

At some point, Santana releases my face to drag his body out of the seat and throw it onto the side of the road. She moves so quickly that I barely have time to blink before she's right next to me again, this time holding my head with both of her hands.

I reach up absently to feel my still erect fangs with my fingertips. This isn't real. It's a nightmare. It has to be.

"Didn't that help?" Her voice isn't nervous or worried. She's pressing me, trying to get me to admit how much I loved ripping him apart.

I lift my gaze to hers and nod slowly.

"It only gets easier." She assures me, now wearing slight grin. She brushes at the sides of my mouth with her thumbs for a moment, obviously trying to remove the fast drying blood, before leaning in and licking at it instead.

My eyes fluttered closed again. Like so many other things that have happened tonight, it should be disgusting... but somehow she manages to make the action feel sexy and sweet.

Despite the way my senses seem to have calmed and everything hurts less after feeding, my anger towards her remains. I want to shove her away and slap her across the face as hard as I can. She had no right to do what she did. She had no right to make me into a monster. She's selfish and smug and cocky, and I want nothing more than to be as far away from her as possible.

But instead of kicking and screaming about how mad I am, I turn my head and abruptly capture her tongue between my lips.

My hands press on her shoulders, taking advantage of her brief shock to pin her body beneath me on the seat. The kiss is violent and angry. Nothing like me at all. Sure, I've been passionate before... but never like this.

I bite her bottom lip and savor the now familiar tang of blood.

It's different from Finn's though. It's spicy and prickly and thin. But it's still amazing.

We both groan, fangs occasionally clashing as our tongues battle and taste. She arches up into me, fingernails dragging over my lower back. But I pull away only a few seconds later when the rage bubbles up again.

This stranger, no matter how alluring and beautiful, has taken everything from me. I don't even know who I am or why I'm currently making out with her like a wild animal. I don't want that. I want to hurt her. I want to make her understand my confusion and my pain.

Nothing makes sense.

Forcing down the inexplicable draw that I feel to her, the one that tells me that being here, with her, is exactly where I belong, I sit back and snarl.

"Bri-"

My palm connects with her cheek fiercely before she can finish.

"Why did you kill him? He didn't have to die. Couldn't we have used that _glimmering_ stuff I heard about on the news? I thought vampires could totally wipe away people's memories like the flashy thing in _Men in Black_!"

"Okay first of all, don't believe everything you hear. Secondly, it's _glamouring._ And thirdly, that's beside the point. You never would have been able to stop yourself from draining him, so there would have been no chance for me to alter his recollection anyway. Young vampires need time to develop control over their impulses. It was a necessary loss."

I scoff. Out of control was right. I feel like I'm boiling from the inside out and every passing thought is becoming an action that I regret faster than I can even comprehend. Her sarcastic stoicism isn't helping either. She barely even flinched at my slap.

"I hate you." I growl.

She narrows her eyes slightly. "Your little display just now says otherwise."

"Shut up. I don't know why I did that. It was just... a reflex." I scoot backwards and throw myself out of the car, storming down the road.

"Why are you fighting this so much?" Santana calls out. She's already caught up to me by the time I spin around.

"Because I don't want to be like this! Like _you_! I don't want to kill people and not be able to control my body even when my head tells me to stop!" I clench my jaw. "I'm going home."

"Brittany, no." Santana commands forcefully. "You can't. You don't belong in their world anymore."

"Stop acting like you know what's best for me! You don't even know me. You're just some random vampire who decided I looked like a nice midnight snack but then changed her mind at the last minute and thought 'hey, you know what would be even more fun? Making this girl into a psychotic demon just like me! Then we can hold hands and go on killing sprees together.'" I taunted childishly. "Well you know what Santana? Go fuck yourself. I'm not gonna be your little playmate."

She sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. "You can sulk all you like but it won't change anything. You don't have a home with your family anymore. There's no going back there. That part of your life has ended. Your only home now is with me."

I want to fight her some more, I really do... but as I spot the bottoms of Finn's shoes lying amongst the thick dried grass on the roadside, I get the sinking feeling that there's no point. She's right. She's right about everything and I feel the urge to either sob helplessly or hit her again for it. "Where do you live anyways? Some dusty old crypt?" I snap.

She laughs and moves closer to take my hand. Despite myself, I let her. "You've been watching too many movies." My body is naturally comforted by her touch even though my brain cries out to battle her every step of the way. She begins to guide me down the road.

"Wait... what about Finn's car?" I ask as we pass it.

"He won't be needing it anymore." She shrugs. "And besides, I have a much nicer mode of transportation waiting for us."

It's only a few minutes later when we return to the park that we'd slept in and Santana wheels out a flashy motorcycle from behind a big tree. She starts it up with an energetic kick and smirks like she's hot stuff.

"What about helmets?" I enquire, unimpressed with her display. "I mean, I know a fall won't kill us but I'm pretty sure I can still feel pain."

Santana just raises an eyebrow at me. "Seriously? You really don't trust me?"

"No." I cross my arms over my chest defiantly.

She sighs in frustration for what feels like the millionth time tonight. "Just get on. We've got a long ride ahead of us and at this rate, we'll be lucky if we don't get burnt to a crisp by sunrise."

I huff but do as she says, reluctantly wrapping my arms around her waist as I settle in behind her.

"Hold on tight." She announces.

"Yeah, yeah I know. This isn't my first time on a motorbike."

* * *

She was right about the drive taking a while. We pass through several towns and it's nearly three hours before we arrive at our destination in the city of Shreveport.

It's some dive of a bar called _'Fangtasia'_.

Without a word, she parks the bike in a space close to the door, shuts off the engine and climbs off.

As we step up to the entrance though, she turns to me expectantly.

"Wait a sec." Santana mumbles, before reaching over to brush off my face and neck, presumably still speckled with dirt and blood. "Do you have something to tie up your hair?" She asks after cleaning me as best she can.

"Why?"

"Because you have some _Finn_ left in it."

I cringe at the thought and dig into my pockets to fish out a hair band. I sweep my long blonde tresses up deftly into a lose ponytail.

"It's a lot easier if it's dark you know. Nobody notices a few sneaky red highlights in my hair." She smirks.

"I'm not dying my hair to cover up blood stains." I grumble.

"I never said that. Your hair is fucking sexy blonde." Santana wiggles her eyebrows mischievously and I'm not sure whether to blush or elbow her in the stomach for annoying me.

"What does it matter how I look anyway? Isn't this a vampire bar? What are you like, introducing me to your parents?" I tease.

"Something like that." She grins and pushes the door open so we can step through.

Inside, it's dark and busy and there's heavy metal music bouncing off the walls. I follow her through the crowd of swaying, leather-clad occupants until we reach a door to some kind of back area. She tugs it open like she owns the place. And for all I know, she does.

I find myself standing in an office with a large desk, a bricked up window and two other doors - one off to each side. There's some muffled noises coming from behind the one to our right that sound anything but innocent.

"Mike? You back here?" Santana calls out as she throws said door open.

The first thing I notice isn't the walls packed with storage shelves and crates full of Tru Blood and alcohol. It's the tall, completely naked, buff Asian guy pounding into a petite, equally naked blonde on a worn, black leather couch on the far side of the room. He pulls back slightly from his position behind her and I can see that he's got blood smeared all over his lips and fangs, matching the obvious bite marks on the girl's back and neck. But instead of screaming or trying to get away, she seems to be thoroughly enjoying the violent treatment.

It's not that I'm a stranger to sex. I've done things... with boys _and_ girls before. Mostly girls actually. But seeing two people going at it right in front of me, especially when one has clearly been drinking the blood of the other, is still pretty startling. I'm not quite sure whether to yelp or giggle or be weirdly (and a bit unwelcomely) turned on. I think the smell of her blood is sort of helping to cloud my judgement.

"Oh hey Quinn. Didn't know you were here. Am I interrupting again?" Santana speaks up beside me and I'm half snapped from my shock.

"Go away Santana." The blonde warns through her broken grunts of pleasure.

"Whatever." She scoffs, focusing her attention back on the guy. He clearly isn't fazed by her presence in the slightest and continues pumping away. "I thought I told you to put your human on a leash."

_If I ever get the chance, I'm going to lace your Tru Blood with silver, bitch. _I hear the girl, Quinn, think.

It catches me off guard. Well, more off guard than I already am considering the visual I'm currently faced with. But since I can't hear anything from Mike, I'm beginning to wonder if this whole 'hearing thoughts' business is something that just doesn't work on _any _vampires. It's not like I'd ever met one in real life before Santana. I've only been around humans. So I wouldn't have known.

I guess it make senses though. Maybe I could ask her sometime.

But that would mean telling her my secret... Unless she already knows? I mean, even though my memory is pretty fuzzy now, I think I remember her asking me '_what I was'_ when she was biting me...

Can vampires taste special powers?

"Be nice San." He puffs out with a wry smile.

"Seriously though Mike... I love how you're the world's biggest activist for mainstreaming but whenever little Q here lets you have a nibble while you two fuck, it's some kind of exception."

"You know that's different." He smirks.

"Uh huh." Santana replies, obviously not sold on the idea. "Well I just thought you might like to _officially_ meet Brittany... now that she's awake and all."

Suddenly everyone's attention is on me and I can't help the way I want to turn and run. Why is nobody acknowledging the fact that two people in the room are having sex? Why is Santana looking at me like this is all normal and gesturing with her head like I should go shake the naked guy's hand and introduce myself?

"Hi Brittany. Welcome to the family. I'm Mike." He smiles at me before getting a better grip on the girl beneath him and moving his hips a bit faster. "And this is Quinn."

_Oh fuck! _The blonde moans in her head. She doesn't say anything out loud though.

I must look just as uncomfortable as I feel because the next thing I know Santana and Mike are both laughing at me.

"Maybe we'll come back another time when you're more... available." Santana drops a hand to my waist and guides me out.

"Okay! See ya girls!" Mike beams.

Santana's still sniggering softly to herself when she closes the door behind us. "I don't think I'll ever know what he sees in that girl. She's such a stuck up bitch."

I gawk at her. "Really? That's all you've got to say? You just had a conversation with a guy and a girl who were humping like bunnies right in front of us!"

Santana furrows her brow at me. "So?"

"So?" I repeat loudly. "SO?!"

"Yeah... what's the big deal? Mike's not the shy type and Quinn's used to it by now. I've walked in on them more times than I can count. They're always going at it back there."

I can't understand this. Is a lack of boundaries a vampire thing too?

This world is definitely not what I'm used to.

Santana looks like she's about to say something else to me when the door leading to the rest of the bar swings open and another blonde woman with severe grey eyes strides in. She looks a fair bit older than Quinn though and is dressed in a black and red leather corset and matching tight pants.

"Fuckin' idiots starting fights over stupid humans..." The woman mumbles, barely acknowledging us as she moves to sit down behind the desk in the corner. "When are they gonna realize that those borin' blood bags ain't worth nothin' more than a hot meal anyways."

Santana's hand slips into mine and I see her smile out the corner of her eye as she tugs me over to stand in front of her.

"Hey Pam... I want you to meet someone."

The woman looks up from the papers she's shuffling through and eyes me cautiously. "Oh no Santana. Please tell me you didn't. I was really hoping that Mike was fucking with me."

"This... is Brittany." Santana offers, a little hesitant.

The older blonde, Pam, lets out a loud sigh. "What did I tell you about making?"

"But-"

"We can't have baby vamps running around messin' shit up with all this mainstreaming crap smearin' the media. Eric's going to have a fuckin' fit when he finds out."

"But I-"

"And you're not even close to ready for this kind of responsibility. You can barely even take care of yourself." Pam stands and moves around the desk, coming to sit on the edge in front of us.

"I'm two-hundred and twelve years old!" Santana groans.

Pam snorts in response. "Could have fooled me."

"I can handle this Pam. You handled me and Mike when you were a lot younger."

"It was a different time Santana. Don't act like you're oblivious to all the fuckin' pressure we're under now that those fools in the AVL are fangin'-up in public like a freakin' pride parade on Halloween."

"I know but this was... I needed to do it." Santana squirms in place.

I really don't know how to follow their odd conversation but from what it looks like, Santana seems kinda embarrassed.

Pam raises an eyebrow. "Needed? Killing is one thing... but since when do you _need _to turn every pretty young blonde thing that catches your eye?"

"It wasn't like that." I see Santana's gaze drift down to the floor and in the face of all the distrust and bitterness I feel towards her, I can tell she's being genuine.

"Oh really? You're tellin' me you didn't spot sweet, innocent Brittany here – " Pam glances at me for a moment before turning back to Santana "- and get that nice tingle in between your legs and aching in your stomach? You didn't charm her into following you somewhere quiet and then tear into her like a bag of potato chips, losing all your self-control when you tasted her pure, adolescent blood and felt her extremely- " She smirks and quickly checks me out. "- _attractive _body yielding to your command? And then, when she finally stopped squirmin', you realized that you actually wanted more of that ass than you first thought?"

"It was more than that." Santana snarls abruptly. "And don't ask me to explain how... it just was."

Pam pauses and blinks a few times. "You're serious."

"No shit Sherlock." Santana sneers.

Pam tilts her head to the side curiously. "Right... well whatever it is that you think is going on here, it still doesn't excuse the fact that you've got some serious explainin' to do when Eric shows up."

"I'll deal with it." Santana gives a firm nod.

"Okay then, Tiger." Pam steps away from the desk and looks me up and down once more appraisingly. "Brittany – it's been a pleasure." Her tone doesn't match her words at all though. It's cold and sarcastic.

She sends a final warning stare at Santana before making her way back out into the bar.

When the door closes, Santana turns to me. "She likes you."

"Huh?" How the hell did anything in that conversation indicate that woman liked me?

"Just... trust me. She does." Santana smiles and it's almost shy.

Without saying anything else, she gestures for me to follow her through the second door – the one without a naked Mike and Quinn behind it – and down a metal staircase to what I assumed was a basement of sorts.

In my head, I'm still going over everything she said to Pam though. Santana seemed so sure and honest when she said there was something more behind her reasoning for turning me into a vampire than just blood and lust and selfishness. Could I really be _special_ to her in some way? Not just another victim or play-thing or forced companion? I mean, I couldn't deny I felt _something _when she touched me... and when she looked into my eyes... But it was so often overshadowed by dislike or exasperation that I wasn't sure what it meant.

If not for her sincerity and conviction in that exchange with Pam, I would almost want to make fun of her for the way she had been taken down a peg by the other vampire. Before we'd arrived here, she'd totally put me off with the way she seemed so calm and arrogant and bigheaded. She made me think that she was completely in charge of every aspect of her life... I mean, _un-life_. I mean... whatever.

But she wasn't. And after seeing her brief display of honesty, I'm not sure whether to laugh at her or find the obvious slivers of substance and passion surprisingly alluring.

She may not be as high and mighty as she'd like to pretend but she's definitely not as stone-hearted as I first thought either.

My mother did always say not to judge a book by its cover.

"You'll be sleeping with me in my coffin since there aren't any spares right now." Santana throws back over her shoulder while we pass by a couple of said sleeping cases. "It's going to be a little cramped but, as your maker, I think it might help you to feel me close by for a while."

And there she goes, slipping right back into that 'I'm your maker and I know what's best for you' voice again. "I'm not a baby." I roll my eyes.

"You've only been a vampire one night. I'd say that constitutes infancy." Santana stops in front of a sleek black metal coffin and opens the lid to reveal plush, red velvet lining. "Now come on, it's almost sunrise."

I narrow my eyes at her but climb in anyway. It's actually large enough for me to lie on my side comfortably with plenty of space for her to slide in behind. And only a few seconds later, she does just that, closing the lid with a gentle tug.

It's suffocatingly dark inside and I can feel her body molded to mine closely at my back. She slides a cautious hand around my waist to draw me closer. I want to stay pissed off. I have so much to resent her for. This new 'life' is going to take an awful lot of getting used to. And part of me is still itching to fight against it until I have no voice left in throat and no strength in muscles. But right now, having her hold me just feels... right.

I don't push her away when she snuggles in tighter.

"We'll need to get you a shower and change of clothes later. We still have dirt all over us."

"And blood." I whisper.

"Well... that's something you'll get used to. But despite not sweating or ever needing to use the bathroom, becoming a vampire doesn't mean that you lose all sense of personal hygiene and decorum."

"Wait... I'll never have to go to the bathroom again?" I ask, amazed.

"Nope." She chuckles. "Your bodily waste emission days are now far behind you."

"Do you brush your fangs?"

Santana laughs again and squeezes her arm around me lightly. "I do. But only because I like the minty taste. Generally, our bodies self-maintain. Apart from needing to ingest large quantities of blood on a regular basis, we don't _have_ to do much of anything."

"Weird." I mumble, my eyelids unexpectedly starting to droop. I hear some footsteps just outside our coffin and muffled voices. I guess other vampires sleep down here too.

"Can you feel it?" Santana murmurs after a few moments of silence.

"Hmm?"

"The sun." She sighs. "It's coming up."

I close my eyes fully and take a second to search for what she's describing. Then, like someone is holding a lit match close by, I sense a strange kind of warmth above me. "Yeah..."

"Make sure you pay attention to what your instincts tell you Brittany. The world is a very different place for you now." She yawns, resting her face at the back of my neck. "Don't worry though. I'll always be right here. I'll never let anything or anyone hurt you."

I hum quietly, only half taking in her words as I drift off into a dark, dreamless rest.


	3. Chapter 3: Eyes on Fire

**A/N: Firstly, to the anon reviewer who has read almost all the novels... I am intimidated =P I have never read any of the books, so this is all based on what I've seen on the show. I hope I don't disappoint you... and/or make any critical mistakes. **

******Like I said before... ****I'm gonna twist some stuff though. I**t's all for the arts ;) Hope it doesn't bother anyone too much. 

**For example, Pam's age is something I am playing with a bit. In the books it's different from the show. And in this fic, I'm probably making her a little older than she should be... but oh well. That's just finicky details.  
**

**Finally, just a general apology to everyone about how long this chapter took. I was pretty **_**discouraged**_** by some of the spoilers floating around lately. Had it not been for my weeping heart (and rage), I would have been able to finish this much sooner. Not a great excuse, but yeah. That's what really happened. **

**Thanks, as always, go out to Jay for all the help and support =)**

* * *

_Santana_

When I wake up the next evening, it's to a face full of blonde locks. Still tied up in a ponytail, Brittany's hair tickles at my nose and cheeks, unrelenting in its assault even as I pull my head back to open my eyes properly.

Although Brittany has now lost the overwhelming, irresistible aroma which surrounded her when she was still alive, and remains covered in a thin layer of dirt, she still smells wonderful and sweet. I resist the urge to remove my hand from where it rests on her torso to scratch the itch on my face, in favor of holding on to her just a little bit longer. While her body isn't exactly warm, her perfectly feminine shape and strong, defined muscles feel more than pleasant pressed against me. Together, we fit so seamlessly. Her hip curves into the crook of my elbow as though it was made to fit, while my palm lies flat on her taut stomach. She doesn't breathe but a quiet hum escapes her lips when I press myself tighter into her back and slide my hand up so it rests between her breasts, over her still, peaceful heart.

I smile faintly.

The memory of her kiss from the previous night lingers on my lips and reverberates through my senses. I'm not sure I had expected it. It's not as though Brittany could have been prepared for the tremendous rush that manifests within when a vampire feeds. Her body was set alight, bubbling and surging as she filled herself to the brim. An outward physical response of some form was inevitable.

But I know that I want to believe it was more than that.

The rational part of my brain reminds me how angry and resentful she still is, regardless of how she may be slowly growing accustomed to her changes. The childish and impractical part on the other hand protests that she must have felt some attraction to me, even just for a moment, or else she would not have initiated such a gesture. She may have been temporarily intoxicated from her first feeding, but no-one made her force herself upon me.

My smile becomes a smirk.

Oh how I had enjoyed her passionate attack.

She was turning out to be so much more than I could have hoped for. Clever, disobedient, strong-willed... and while astonishingly maintaining some twinkle of innocence and integrity. If someone had told me several days ago that I would become a maker, that my progeny would be disgruntled and battling with me on even the simplest of things, and that not only would I be tolerant of this, but I would actually be _revelling _in the experience, I would have laughed in their face and then ripped their heart straight from their chest. But I was. Brittany was surprising me in all of the best ways. And I found myself admiring her spirited protests more and more. Instead of feeling as though she was a wild horse that needed to be broken, I wanted to allow her strength and fervent nature to thrive.

The longer we are together, the more I come to congratulate myself on my decision to turn her.

Authorities be damned. She is mine now and I will never leave her side.

And I am sure she is going to become an excellent vampire.

At that moment she begins to stir beside me and I press my face into her shoulder.

"What time is it?" She whispers.

"Just past sunset. Our bodies are trained to wake when the light fades from the sky."

"More vampire powers?"

I chuckle. "I wouldn't exactly call it a power. More of a survival mechanism. We have reversed circadian rhythms. It's simple biology."

"Circle rhythms?"

"Circadian. It just means that our sleep-wake cycle falls into an inverted pattern now that we are more drawn to the darkness."

"Oh." Brittany tries to stretch her legs out but ends up kicking the bottom of the coffin and bumping her knees on the side. "Ouch."

I roll my eyes at her. "That didn't hurt."

"Yeah it did." She grumbles, peering over her shoulder at me through the dim. "You don't know what I'm feeling."

I lift my arm to push the lid of the coffin up gently and climb out. "In a way I do. And even if I didn't, I know that a little knock wouldn't hurt even the most feeble or juvenile of vampires."

"Are you calling me a wimp?" She eyes me when she moves to stand, a challenge in her icy cobalt gaze.

I shake my head in good humor and offer my hand to help her out as well. She ignores it and steps gracefully beside me.

"Also, do you really have to talk like that? I mean, I know you're like a million years old or whatever but you have to know that all those big words make you sound really stuck up. I've heard you talk normally. So it's not like you can't do it. You only start getting all fancy when you go into _'Blah blah blah, I am your maker'_ mode." She throw her arms in the air and does what I assume is an impression of me.

I sigh but smile at her regardless. Apparently her disposition was unaffected by our rest.

I'm glad.

"Do you not want your maker to be eloquent and charming? Would you prefer I speak like some ill-educated redneck, drooling cheap beer from my lips between syllables?" I raise an eyebrow.

"You're not nearly as charming as you think you are. Believe me." She quips.

I laugh but feel a faint shiver down my spine at the sight of her smirking lips. It once again stirs that bizarre tug I feel deep in my chest. It's just as prominent as ever. Her sights, her sounds... they all pull me in like a helpless mosquito to a buzzing neon light. It's new and perplexing... but not alarming.

Though I find myself wondering now if she can feel it too.

She must. Mustn't she?

"Okay then. I'll attempt to tone down the superfluous language." I relent.

She gives me a pointed look and I realize my mistake.

I dip my head in apology. "I mean, I'll try to keep it simple."

"Good."

"Will you two shut the fuck up? Who cares about how you talk! I wanted to sleep in tonight." Mike slams his coffin lid open across the room but in opposition to his harsh words, there is a sly smile upon his face.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you have another date with the bleach-blonde neurotic hellspawn this evening that you needed to be primping for?"

"Hey!" Mike and Brittany both yell in unison.

"That's my girlfriend you're talking about!"

"Why are you bringing blondes into it?"

I groan and drag a hand down my face. "Impossible."

I wait a beat as they both glare at me before turning on my heel and walking away. "Come on Brittany. Let's get you something fresh to wear."

As I locate the door to the downstairs private bathroom and dressing area, I can hear her petulant stomping behind me and Mike's muffled giggles.

Looks like it's going to be another eventful night.

* * *

"We can get you some new clothes of your own later but for now you'll just have to borrow some of the things I have here." I explain over my shoulder as we enter.

The powder room is warm and carpeted in a deep burgundy, with a complimentary antique sofa, a large dresser and a vanity on the left. To the right is the door to the shower and bath, flanked by a matching armchair and a bookcase filled to capacity with Mike's favorite first editions. He was always such a mystery buff. Edgar Allan Poe, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle... The classics.

Although I would never tell him so, I always found the fascination to be quite endearing.

The old books - combined with the decor of this room - is a soothing reminder of some of the previous homes I lived in during my vampire youth with Mike, Pam, and, less frequently, Eric. It's beautiful and elegant... so unlike some of the gaudy, cheesiness that makes up other parts of Fangtasia.

Perhaps that's why I have been less settled since we moved here, always travelling and often spending the night in hotels that cater to vampires (and even the odd makeshift underground shelter if need be). I understand the need to, for lack of a better word, _vamp_ it up in order to attract customers. But at times it grates on my nerves too much to bare.

Then again, it's possible the constant restlessness I have been experiencing may be related to something much deeper than room furnishings.

Brittany raises an eyebrow as she approaches my side. "I guess I can rule out pants then if I'm gonna wear your stuff. They'll all be too short for me."

I roll my eyes with a smile. "I have plenty of nice skirts and dresses."

"Anything that isn't super black or leather-y? Not all of us are into that _'creature of the night'_ look." Behind me, I feel her eyes burn over my ripped black tank and leather pants as I open the dresser.

"Oh and your _'look at me! I'm a cute farm girl' _motif is so much better?" I scoff.

"It worked on you, didn't it?"

I shake my head at her yet again with a chuckle. "Are you ever going to stop being so stubborn?"

"Maybe. Are you ever going to stop treating me like a kid?"

"Maybe." I smirk, turning back to the large dresser to pull out a plush white towel from the drawer beneath the hanging clothes. "Do you need any help showering or are you grown up enough to do that by yourself?"

She makes a face at my teasing and snatches it from my hands. "I think I can manage." She drawls sarcastically.

"Wonderful. The shower is just through that door." I point her in the right direction and try to find something suitable for us both to wear.

We take turns washing the previous night's dirt and blood from our bodies and I try to ignore the way my fangs burst forth at the sight of Brittany's shimmering skin and dripping wet hair when she emerges from the bathroom first. I keep my lips taut over my sharpened canines as I pass her by, stepping into the bathroom carrying my own towel. I can't deny the desperate urge I feel to tear into her bare neck and shoulders... but I know that she has been through enough in the past few days without me throwing myself at her like a feral cat in heat.

Vampires are not known for repressing their sexual impulses. More often than not, we take what we want, when we want it, with no apologies or remorse. But Brittany deserves more than that. Not only because I feel I need to set some kind of example for her, but also because I want her to know that even though I'm trying to teach her, she has my respect. It is safe to assume that she will require much more time to adjust before I can even begin entertaining any sinful thoughts of throwing her up against the nearest wall, ripping her towel off and burying my face between her long, toned legs.

Not that I can really prevent myself from having those particular thoughts though... or my body from reacting to them.

Blue eyes follow me closely, critically, as I open the bathroom door and step out into the dressing area again after my own shower.

It takes me a moment before I even realize that she is now fully dressed – clad in the purple and black, panelled, clingy dress that I picked out for her, and wearing it far better than I have ever worn it myself.

Her hair remains damp but tousled and wavy around her shoulders, and her legs seem even more endless and tempting as she slips into a pair of simple black heels.

I attempt to maintain some composure as I cross the room to begin dressing myself also.

"Well? Do I look okay?" She asks me after a slight pause.

"I didn't think you would need my approval."

"I don't." She huffs, but then I hear the stutter in her breathing as I drop my towel shamelessly.

I have a good body. I'm aware of this. And it's not that I feel I need to flaunt this fact... nor am I attempting to get some kind of petty payback for the way she has been unintentionally working me up with her mere existence. Not consciously at least. It's just that after living for hundreds of years as an immortal, most vampires lose all sense of shame when it comes to matters of nudity.

It's natural. It's primal. It's raw.

And it's certainly not something to be particularly coy with or embarrassed about.

I glance back over my shoulder at her stunned expression. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Brittany simply blinks.

I thought she might have become somewhat desensitized after our brief encounter with Mike and Quinn the previous night. But judging by her wide eyes and furrowed brow, she obviously didn't expect me to be so open with myself.

Whilst trying to contain a smirk, I turn back to open the second drawer of the dresser. I pull out two bras - one red and lacy, the other turquoise and silk. Without missing a beat, I spin around so that Brittany has an unobscured view of my bare front. "Which one?" I tilt my head to the side with exaggerated innocence and ditziness.

If possible, her eyes bulge even further as they drop to my exposed chest.

I grin.

I know I vowed I was going to be respectful towards her by keeping my distance sexually... at least for now... but it's just so much fun to tease.

And she certainly isn't making it easy to repress my desires when I can see the clear interest in her brazen, wandering eyes and gawking mouth.

"I think I might go with... the_ red_ one tonight." I muse, almost uninterested, after it becomes clear that she isn't going to respond at all.

I begin dressing slowly, sliding on said bra, with its matching set of underwear, and a pair of tight black jeans and high-heeled boots. As a final touch, I throw on my favorite leather jacket.

I don't bother putting anything on underneath it. And I only zip it up half way for good measure.

Brittany continues to stare at me the whole time.

I flash a knowing smile at her once I'm finished. "Ready to go?"

She seems to snap out of her daze slightly as she bites her lip and nods before following me back out into the club.

* * *

Once we get upstairs, we're met by two very familiar and very bored looking faces in the office.

"Santana..." Eric drones. He's sitting reclined in a chair with his hands clasped and his feet up on the desk, while Pam is perched on the edge beside him. His caramel colored hair is meticulously gelled and his brow is set in a permanent show of stoicism. "Please... take a seat."

I try not to let my posture show the jolt of fear I feel at his words.

It's not that I'm afraid of Eric. As Pam's maker, he's practically my family. And I'm not even really intimidated by his standing as Sheriff.

I've always sort of looked up to him.

It's more the pressing thought of what his _'bosses'_ might have ordered him to do if he's already told them about Brittany that terrifies me so much.

Things have been exceedingly complicated lately with all the press about mainstreaming...

"I'd rather stand thanks." I mumble, folding my arms over my chest.

"Suit yourself." He sighs. "This shouldn't take long."

I feel my upper lip twitch. What the hell does that mean? What's going to happen to me? What's going to happen to Brittany?

I sure as hell am not going to wait to find out.

"I'm not backing down. Whatever it is that the AVL or the Authority or fucking anyone has said, I don't care. Brittany's mine. Nobody can change that and whatever punishment you want to hand out, I will take willingly." I growl. "But I won't let you do anything to her. It was my fault that Brittany was made. Not hers."

I sense Brittany stiffen behind me - whether out of fear or annoyance that I've once again called her _mine_ I'm not sure - and Pam seems taken aback by my passionate little speech.

But Eric just raises his eyebrows and leans forward, clucking his tongue. "Now now Santana... let's not get too cavalier. Why on earth do you think you're in trouble?"

I frown. "I... uh... Pam said that-"

"Pam was worried that it might not be a good idea to be making new vampires considering our current public and political standings?"

"Yeah..." I nod, confused.

"I'm afraid that was just Pam being melodramatic... as usual."

I suppress the urge to smirk at the indignant glare Pam throws back at Eric.

"Nobody's going to care about one irrelevant little farm girl hick."

"Her name is _Brittany_." I snarl, my fists clenching slightly.

Eric gives me a mocking, tight lipped grin and Pam lets out a little snort of laughter. They're obviously amused by my defensiveness of her.

If I'm honest with myself, I am too. It's certainly unexpected that I've become so quickly enamoured with her... enough so that I'd be willing to put her well-being before my own.

If I were still alive, I might just be blushing.

"Be that as it may, I don't think that this situation is anything to be concerned about." Eric leans back in his chair and crosses one tall leg over the other. "Providing you keep _Brittany_ in line and make sure she is aware of her place now, I can't see any harm in it."

"Oh I will. She'll be very well educated." I tease, but in reality I'm just relieved that this isn't going to be an issue.

Pam smirks at Brittany suggestively and I turn just in time to catch her rolling her eyes.

"Now get out." Eric mutters, clearly finished with me as he opens one of the drawers on the desk to pull out some paperwork.

I nod, shoot a brief knowing look at Pam that means we will talk again soon and grab Brittany by the wrist to lead her out into the bar.

"So let me guess... he likes me too?" Brittany asks sardonically once the backroom is behind us.

"He didn't seem like he wanted to kill you, did he?" I smirk. "With Eric, that's a pretty big compliment."

"Vampires are so weird." Brittany shakes her head.

I laugh lightly under my breath and guide us through the swaying bodies towards the bar.

Ginger, a lanky, worn-looking waitress, gives me a thin smile as she places a bottle of bourbon back in place on the shelf. "Hey Santana, what can I get you? A bottle of O neg?"

My lips curl down a bit at the suggestion and I turn to Brittany. "If you still wanted to try stomaching some Tru Blood, then now is the time."

She gazes at me a moment, seemingly apprehensive, before nodding. She should be worried. It's completely foul compared to the real thing.

"Yeah, we'll take one."

Ginger hurries over to grab a bottle of my preferred flavor but before she can twist off the cap, I stop her. "Heat it up first. It's going to be bad enough for her without having to suffer the blandness of room temperature."

The waitress simply nods and thrusts it into the microwave for a few minutes.

Brittany shifts on the stool beside me and shakes her hair out a little. Her nose is twitching and I can already tell what she's thinking before she even opens her mouth to speak.

"So what are all these humans doing here? Do they want to get bitten or something?" Her tone is accusing and frustrated. She's young and ravenously hungry but still manages to control herself.

I'm impressed.

"Actually, yes. That's the point."

Her forehead crinkles. "That's stupid. Why would anyone want to get attacked by a vampire on purpose?"

I smirk and spin on my stool so that my back is resting on the edge of the bar and I have a clear view of our surroundings. The dance floor is relatively crowded, as it is on most nights, and the tables and booths are scattered with humans and vampires alike.

"Have you ever heard the term _fangbanger,_ Brittany?"

She shakes her head, confused but still sort of curious.

"Some humans... like say, _Quinn_ for example... they get off on being bitten and vampires being _rough_ with them." I explain freely. "It's actually a lot more common than you'd expect."

Ginger slides the bottle of warm Tru Blood onto the bar top with a polite grin and removes the cap before moving on to serve another customer.

"Problem is, not all vampires like to play along... and occasionally, things get out of hand even with the ones that do... but most of the time it can be a mutually beneficial relationship."

"So... these people like getting hurt? It turns them on?" Brittany's staring at the bottle in front of her like it's going to sprout thorns if she gets close enough.

I bite my lip to stop from laughing at her innocence.

I can't help myself from playing on it further. "Yes. I think you know exactly what kind of pleasure comes from being _devoured_, don't you?"

Her eyes find mine, and for a moment she looks angry, like she wants to protest or maybe even slap me again for implying that she enjoyed what happened to her, but it fades and she just ends up lowering her eyes back to the bar top.

"No. I don't know why anyone would like that." She mumbles.

It's not even slightly truthful. I can tell that much.

She definitely felt it.

A minute or so passes and I keep my gaze trained on her fingers drumming erratically against the dark wood in front of us.

Eventually I get bored though and let out an impatient sigh. "Are you going to drink that or are we going to sit here watching it all night?"

"What if I hate it?" She whispers. If it wasn't for my enhanced hearing, I never would have caught it.

"If you hate it, then you hate it." I shrug. "Just make sure you spit it _away_ from me, okay?"

Brittany groans. "Fine."

With a timid grasp, she lifts the bottle to her lips and tips her head back slowly.

As she holds the liquid in her mouth, the look on her face spirals almost instantly from inquisitive to revolted, and I can tell that she's getting ready to spray it all over the bar. I quickly grab a coaster and hold it out in front of me to protect myself.

To my surprise though, she swallows.

And then sticks her tongue out and cringes dramatically. "Yuck! That's gross!"

"I tried to tell you." I flick the coaster back onto the bar top. "You will get used to it if you really _force_ yourself to... but I still hate it. Before I turned you... that was the longest I'd gone without drinking real blood... and those two weeks felt like an eternity of punishment."

At the time, I had been trying to prove to myself that I could mainstream just as well as the next vampire... mostly because Mike had implied that I would never be able to with my short-temper and weakness for beautiful young girls – even though he couldn't really talk himself when he was having regular meet-ups with Lady Bitch-a-lot. But despite the fact that I agree on some level that feeding on humans is much riskier now that we're out in the open, and killing that pudgy, pale-faced boy the other night – while necessary considering Brittany's newborn hunger - might have lead to more trouble than it was worth had we hung around in that town any longer, I don't really believe it's possible for vampires to completely abstain from human blood.

It's a fool's promise.

Besides, I look down on most humans far too much to want to genuinely and totally _blend in_ with them, regardless of how advantageous it could be.

We're not equals. Not even close.

Brittany leans in to take another sniff from the bottle but ends up pushing it away in disgust with the tips of her fingers. "Yeah I'm done."

"Okay then... Maybe it's time for your first lesson in self-control." I muse.

Although it probably would have been too much to ask for most young vampires, I sensed that Brittany was up to the challenge. She'd already demonstrated a surprising capacity for restraint these past nights. So it was at least worth a try.

I twist in my seat and scour the mass of people over my shoulder once more, this time trying to spot a veteran - a human who had experience with, let's say,_ satisfying_ vampires.

Then I see her. Straight dark hair, Gothic makeup and clothing, a comfortable slouch in the way she sits.

She could almost be one of us if not for her desperate desire to be noticed. It reeks of humanity.

I can practically smell her eagerness from across the room.

I notice then that Brittany is following my stare closely, presumably just as eager herself to find out what I was searching for.

I smirk. "Come on babe. Let's go hunting."

Rising from my seat, I stalk across the room, feeling Brittany trail close behind, and approach the woman's table.

She notices me straight away and I don't hesitate to make my move. "You seem kinda lonely... all by yourself." I bare my fangs to make my intentions clear. "Want some company?"

Her dark eyes dart back and forth between me and Brittany as she squirms in place. "F-fuck yes." She breathes.

"Good. Get up."

She stands and makes her way towards the dance floor.

Thankfully, Brittany catches on to what's happening after only a meaningful look.

I never really enjoyed this part of courting a willing victim. It had always felt like needless foreplay.

But now, with this stranger sandwiched between us, our bodies all grinding and swaying to the slow, almost tribal beat of the song, I wonder if Brittany's about to change my mind on the idea.

Her body is smooth in its movements and her blue eyes are alight with fire. I am mesmerized by her every twist and oscillation, the way her hips arch, her honey-golden hair tumbles about and the grace with which she bends her knees to press back teasingly.

Soon enough, I pay the dark haired girl with us no mind. And Brittany doesn't seem to either. Our eyes are only focused on each other. I run my hands lightly down her arms and she spins to wrap her hands around my neck, over the shorter girl's shoulders. It causes a chain reaction and then we're all far too close to each other, rubbing and pushing fiercely as I try to get my body nearer to hers.

It's starting to become unbearable.

I'm saved from doing anything rash when I feel that the girl's breathing and heart rate have picked up considerably. She throws a glance towards the bathroom. I nod in understanding and grab Brittany's hand to get her attention.

Once we're inside, we all squeeze into one stall.

Away from the flashing lights and pulsing beat, I take the time to notice that the girl has scars all over her neck and smile inwardly at my good judgement.

I close the lid on the toilet and sit down on top of it. "Girl."

"It's T-Tina."

"Whatever. Come sit on my lap, facing away from me."

Tina complies quickly and I snarl as her neck comes into close proximity with my face. I'm very, _very _hungry now... especially after witnessing Brittany dance.

I do my best to shake it off and wait.

"Now Brittany... you sit on top of her, facing me."

With a look of uncertainty, Brittany moves herself into position.

"You can take us both at the same time can't you?" I ask. Not so much because I care but more to put Brittany's mind at ease.

Tina nods swiftly.

"Okay." I pull back the curtain of hair on the left side of her neck and lock eyes with Brittany. "Go slow."

Her features twisted with nerves, Brittany gradually parts her lips to reveal her fangs and aligns them with Tina's throat. I feel the girl's heartbeat hammering through where her back meets my front and Brittany's legs squeeze at my thighs at she pierces her skin. They both let out small moans of pleasure at the action and I have to suck my lips in hard to stop from making any noise myself.

My fingers reach for more of that shiny black hair to reveal the other side of her neck to me and I don't waste any more time before diving in as well, my own control already pushed to its limits with the sights and smells of what's happening all around me.

Tina tastes good enough and I revel in the small relief that comes with feeding once more.

But again what's driving me wild is the way Brittany's hands have moved passed her body, and are instead palming and grasping at my shoulders as we both ravish and consume. Despite my earlier vow to keep my distance physically, I suddenly want to feel those hands all over me. I want to throw Tina aside and press Brittany into the stall door. I want those little sighs and hums spouting from her lips to be my doing. I want our bodies meshed together, our hips writhing... just as hers seem to be now but I can't feel it nearly enough with this damn girl between us.

I crush my thighs together to try and alleviate some of the insistent throbbing.

"Oh yes. Fuck." Tina starts groaning, completely breaking the moment. "Oh God." My eyes flicker open to watch her hands reach out and grab at Brittany's ass.

Suddenly throwing her doesn't seem like enough.

"Shut the fuck up." I pull back and growl. "And keep your hands to yourself or you'll be leaving here without them."

Despite being half-drained, Tina has the sense to remove her greedy hands and hold them up at her sides like she's getting arrested.

I'm almost disappointed. Now I won't get to hurt her...

Meanwhile, Brittany doesn't seem to notice any of our exchange and continues feeding ardently.

I wipe my mouth a bit with the back of my hand and stroke through her blonde hair, trying to keep it out of the blood trickling down Tina's exposed shoulder.

I let another minute or two pass before I can feel Tina's pulse start to weaken between us.

"Britt..." I beckon quietly, attempting to cup her cheek.

She resists and just burrows her fangs in more – much to Tina's poorly masked delight. Her over-zealous enjoyment is really starting to piss me off.

"You have to stop now. She'll die." I wrap my fingers in her hair and yank.

Dazed and drunk off the high, Brittany retreats. Her eyes are glassy and her mouth is smeared with red.

And she looks incredibly sexy.

With firm movements, I get to my feet, forcing them both up along with me. I lean around to unlatch the door and shove Tina outside before pulling it closed again forcefully.

For a moment, we both just stand there, the tension thick and hazy. But then I have to be near her. There's no fighting it.

It's a need. A requirement. Almost like trying to combat pure forces of nature.

I take a step forward and slip my arms either side of her waist, pressing my palms flat to the cool stall wall.

I'm not touching her, but I'm as close as I possibly can be without doing so. If my body still needed to breathe, I would be panting.

I had no idea that feeding with her would hit me so hard... and make me doubt my own restraint so much. My skin feels like it's crackling with pent up desire and though I've just fed, it's as if there's this giant tidal wave inside of me, arching back menacingly as it threatens to crash.

I've never felt anything like it before.

It terrifies me.

And somehow I don't think I can put it down to the fact that this is the first time I've resisted my sexual impulses since becoming a vampire.

It's more than that.

It's her.

I can't look up at her face, so I just press my cheek into her shoulder. "You did well."

"You... uh... you helped." Her voice is quiet and sweet. But there's something else there as well. Something strained.

In my peripheral vision, I watch her hands hovering at my hips.

She wants to touch me too.

* * *

**Fun Fact: All of the chapters are named after songs, which are part of a big playlist that I have for this fic. If anyone is interested in checking this playlist out, let me know. I could post it on my tumblr or something.  
**

**It may or may not give you some hints for what to expect in the future from this story ;)**

**Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. You guys are awesome.  
**


	4. Chapter 4: Virgin State of Mind

**A/N: Bit shorter chapter. No excuses for the delay. Same reason as before. I hate canon. Canon hates all of us. But we will SHIP ON!**

**Ducksticks: According to True Blood lore, in order to create a vampire "a human must be drained of their blood by a vampire (effectively killing the human), and the blood lost needs to be replaced by some of the vampire's blood. The vampire and human must then sleep in the ground until the newborn rises as a vampire." So yeah. Santana and Brittany did not drink enough of Tina's blood and Tina didn't drink theirs in return or sleep in the ground with them. So she wouldn't become a vampire herself = )**

**Warning: This chapter contains fairly graphic descriptions of torture of a very minor character. I sincerely hope it doesn't offend anyone. It does have a purpose though. **

**Thanks yet again, to Jay for the beta-skillz =) **

* * *

_Brittany_

Something passes through me as Santana shifts her feet closer and straightens her back.

Feeding on that girl with her was… amazing. It was so much more exciting than the first time... so much more consuming and forceful.

Even though the stranger's thoughts while we drank from her were nothing short of explicit and disturbing, I could barely hear them over the ringing in my ears. It was like swimming through an ocean of brass coins. Sharp and echoing, but in a strange way also kinda soothing and tingly.

Santana was right. The taste was so much better when they were still alive. The blood had a bite to it… probably caused by the flicker of fear that came with being close to death.

That hadn't been there with Finn… he was already dead.

But it wasn't just the taste.

It was the way Santana's cool skin and leather jacket felt under my fingertips… the way she touched my cheek and pulled at my hair roughly when it was time to stop.

The perfect contrast between gentle and harsh.

It reminded me of the way she so fearlessly stood up for me in front of Pam and that Eric guy. I really didn't expect her to be that protective. I mean, she only made me a few nights ago. Why would she care if I went away now? Even if she seems to want to help me out and keep me safe, she barely knows me. And it totally caught me off guard to see her so ready to defend me at the risk of her own safety.

It was almost… sweet.

Can vampires be sweet? Arrogant, ruthless and manipulative, yes. But sweet?

I never would have thought so before.

But Santana's such a mystery to me.

I can see it now in her tensed shoulders and arm muscles that she's holding herself back from me.

Why?

Why would she bother to stop herself from doing anything to me if that's really what she wanted? Who am I to make her doubt?

I'm just some girl she turned into her pet monster… for reasons I still don't know or understand.

I know that she's attracted to me. That's pretty damn obvious. And honestly, I think I've been pretty obvious myself. It's kind of hard to hide the way my body has been reacting lately. Even if I have been sorta conflicted with my resentment towards her and doing my best to fight it.

Why is she trying to pretend like she isn't turned on right now? Does she think I can't see it?

It's too many thoughts all at once. And I really can't think straight with this buzzing in my veins. I close my eyes and bite down on my bottom lip.

Still mostly out of focus and dizzy from the intense head rush of our feeding, all I know for sure is that I can't deny the way my fingers itch to find her body again.

"Santana…" I whisper after what seems like hours of tense silence.

Her head lifts a bit but she doesn't make eye-contact. She just presses her cheek to mine and rests her lips by my ear.

"How do you feel?"

How do I feel?

She already knows how I feel.

It's like my insides want to become outsides and run a marathon. My hips are wiggling in place because I'm aching and desperate to press forward and get some contact.

I feel crazy.

"Better." I reply instead. My voice sounds a little worn out.

"Just _better_?" She withdraws only enough so that she can look into my eyes.

My gaze drops straight down to her lips.

The urge to attack them with my own, just like in Finn's car the night before, is back… only this time it's much, _much_ stronger.

Not to mention, the image of her strutting around naked is still very clear in my mind.

It's pretty hard to forget with a body like that.

My tongue darts out to lick away some of the drying blood on my mouth at the thought.

With a shiver, I remember the way it had felt to have her tongue doing the same.

Tasting me… teasing me…

"I feel like everything's on fire." I swallow thickly. "Is that normal?"

An almost pained expression crosses her face and I can see the way she bites at the inside of her cheek before nodding slowly.

"It's always pretty intense… especially at beginning."

I hum in agreement and try to concentrate on holding her stare… but my eyes keep dropping back down to her mouth as she speaks.

I can't even help it when my lips part slightly and I start to lean in.

It's just gravity… or something.

Santana doesn't move. Her brow just tightens even more.

And it isn't until my eyelids fall closed, and I'm less than an inch away from joining our lips together that the bathroom door swings open loudly somewhere behind me.

"Santana? Pam wants to see you."

It's Mike.

If I didn't know his voice, I could tell by the smell of his aftershave.

Strange. I didn't even realize that I already had it memorized.

More vampire stuff I guess.

As Santana steps back with an apologetic yet seemingly relieved expression on her face, I almost want to cry out in frustration. And maybe put my fist through the stall wall.

Wait… could I really do that now?

Not the point.

Why am I so frustrated at being interrupted? Was I really going to kiss her again?

What else would I have done if Mike hadn't come in?

I move out of the way so Santana can open the door and let us out. Mike nods at her and leaves when she steps over to the mirror to fix her hair. I settle beside her and my eyes widen when I see just how messy my face is.

I look like a little kid who had strawberry pie for dessert but didn't bother with the fork.

When we're finished cleaning up, she leads me back out of the bathroom and tells me to wait for her by the bar while she goes to see what Pam wants.

I find myself an empty stool and settle in.

After a few minutes of drifting through thoughts of Santana's hypnotic gaze and watching the still large crowd shuffle around with mild interest, some big lipped, blonde haired boy comes up to me with a dopey smile on his face and two drinks in hand.

"Hi there."

I raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "Hi." I swivel around on my stool towards the bar so that my disinterest is clear.

He slides one of the filled glasses onto the bar top near my hands regardless.

"Wanna drink?"

I glance back over my shoulder to see him waggle his eyebrows. He looks ridiculous.

"Not thirsty." I shrug and turn away again. I'm already feeling on edge after whatever happened between Santana and I in the bathroom. I don't need some clueless guy bothering me as well.

"Aww come on. It's just one drink." _And a little something extra to loosen up that smokin' body of yours. _

He winks as the thought crosses his mind.

I narrow my eyes and frown deeply. He's seriously trying to drug me? Doesn't he know what I am?

"Listen buddy... I'm real sorry but... I'm taken."

Is that true? Am I taken? Do I really _belong _to Santana now?

It doesn't matter. Because whether I am _hers _or not - as more than just a maker and her make-ee that is - I'm certainly sure that I don't want to waste any of my time on _him. _

He doesn't need to know any more besides the fact I am not available... and Santana isn't around to hear me admitting it anyways.

"Lighten up sweet stuff. One little sip won't hurt." He offers up another disgustingly goofy smile.

I cringe and reply as evenly as I can manage in spite of my rapidly increasing annoyance. "I said I'm not interested. Please leave."

Human-me might have had more patience, but vampire-me is getting ready to rip his damn head off if he doesn't fuck off soon.

"But we'd look so _good_ together." He punctuates the word with a firm grope of my ass.

_One taste of that drink and she'll be naked and on her back in no time... just like all the others. _

Without another thought, I'm off the bar stool and holding him up by his collar. His eyes are overflowing with shock and his feet are swinging lightly as they hang just above the ground.

"Did I say you could touch me?"

"You're a fucking vamper!" He splutters.

"Wow, you _are_ even dumber than you look. I didn't think that was possible." I sneer.

This is a fucking _vampire bar._ His chances of picking up a human girl here are like 50/50. He must know that... right?

What an idiot.

Something dark inside of me wants to make him pay for his stupidity.

But before I get to say anything else, Santana rushes out in a blur from the door leading to the back room.

"Hey Collagen Mouth, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

She rips the boy from my hands and holds him down by the back of his neck so he's doubled over. Her fingers tangle in his hair and before he even has the chance to respond, she tugs his head backward again roughly.

"Were you seriously just trying to get cozy with my girl here?"

His face is twisted in very obvious pain at the jerky motion.

"Santana! Brittany!" Pam's voice booms as she emerges from the back room as well. "Get in here! NOW!"

Santana growls and moves towards where Pam is holding the door open for us... dragging the blonde headed guy along with her.

I follow rigidly, fists clenched.

When the door is closed, Pam rounds on us. "What have I told you about makin' a scene in the bar? I am _not_ in the mood to lose any more fuckin' customers."

"This little dipshit was trying to make a move on Brittany." Santana snarls, pulling his hair harder so he's forced to look her in the eyes.

"And he wasn't taking no for an answer." I hear myself add. I know I want to stand up for Santana even if it means getting in trouble with Pam as well.

Knowing what that douchebag was thinking and what he's done to girls before, he deserves everything that's coming to him. And I'm glad she wants to make him suffer.

It actually makes me feel kinda fuzzy inside.

That's… new.

"I got nothin' against vampires. Please…I-I-I'm s-s-sorry." He whines, sniffling. It's completely pathetic.

Pam sighs impatiently and rolls her eyes. "You better let him go before he pisses himself. I just put in new carpet back here."

With extreme reluctance, Santana releases him into a heap on the floor.

We all glare as he stumbles to his feet and starts hobbling towards the door. "Fucking dykes."

The low grumble, far too quiet to be picked up by any normal human hearing, is like a scream in my ears.

For a brief moment, I wonder if it's just another one of his sick little thoughts.

But then, as a blur of movement sweeps him up and throws him hard against the wall, it's clear that Santana and Pam must have heard it too.

"What the fuck did you just say Puffer Fish?" Santana snaps.

Pam doesn't speak but by the livid look on her face, she doesn't seem like she's going to object either.

"I... I..." He stammers, his mouth flopping open and closed foolishly.

Santana presses her forearm into his throat and he gurgles. "You know what I hate most about inbred, boorish, low-life trash like you?"

His fingers are clawing at her arm, his legs kicking desperately at her knees as he struggles to get away.

She's completely unaffected by it.

I can only smirk with morbid satisfaction.

"You think you can just do whatever you like, to whomever you like, without any fucking consequences."

He tries to shake his head but the movement is severely restricted by Santana's hold on his neck.

"Well guess what – when you mess with me and my girls, there are _always_ consequences."

His eyes bulge almost comically and he struggles even harder. Santana still doesn't waiver.

Instead she looks over at me.

"Now, if it were up to me, I might just kill you on the spot for pissing me off so much." Her lips curl into a sly smile and I surprise even myself as I return it without guilt. It's actually sort of a relief to give in to my dark side a bit. "But since I'm sure you bothered my girl Brittz here even more with your fucking slimy bullshit... I'll let her decide what she wants to do with you."

I stalk over slowly and begin to tap my chin with the tips of my fingers in mock-thought. "I really don't think we should bite him, San... I mean, who knows where he's been?"

"Hmmm true." Santana's smile widens further. "What do you suggest then, babe?"

My eyes slide over to Pam and with a smirk, she gestures for me to go on.

This is really happening.

I guess it's okay as long as we don't _kill _him? Right?

He was pretty much asking for it.

"I think we should teach him a lesson."

And as it turns out, that _lesson_ is a broken hand, some severe burns, a picture of a dick carved into his forehead with a hunting knife and cuffing him to a streetlight a few blocks down, stark naked and gagged.

Does it mean I'm becoming a good vampire because I liked crushing his hand under my heel? Or that I couldn't help but giggle while he grunted and bawled when Santana was slicing away at his skin?

I was surprised at the sound his knuckles made as they shattered. It was sort of like stepping on a really big spider… and you can hear and feel their skeleton crunching and their insides squishing around when you smoosh them. In a way, it's gross... but in another way, it's strangely satisfying. All I know is that it made me smile this really cruel smile I didn't think I was even capable of.

It was somewhere between shame and relief to finally lose myself in the sinister instincts that had been pinching at the back of my mind. Being a vampire wasn't all about drinking blood and running really fast. I knew that.

I just never thought that I would become one of those vampires that enjoy causing pain just for the sake of it. I didn't want to lose all of my humanity…

Santana's pleased expression drove me on though. I think she was both stunned and impressed that I wasn't at all protesting what was happening. And more so that I was actually taking part in it, despite how relatively tame breaking the hand he used to grope me was. She laughed when I drew back to reveal my work and she saw the tears dripping down his cheeks and the snot trickling out of his nose as he sobbed for us to stop.

Pam smiled wide in amusement when I delivered a hard kick to his ribs to shut him up.

I found myself wanting to make them both proud. It felt unsettling and natural at the same time.

When Santana knelt on his chest, knocking the air straight out of his lungs so he was gasping and wheezing, and pulled the knife from inside her boot, I didn't flinch like I might have when I was alive. I was excited to see what she was going to do.

The almost innocent look on her face as she waved her knife around in contemplation and brushed the broad edge over her soft, pouty lips was so sexy... but before she had the chance to begin her work, Pam called out to her and threw her a small box from one of the desk drawers.

A dark flicker passed over her already dark eyes. And I folded my arms across my chest and leant back against the wall to get comfortable as she retrieved a thick cigar and a box of matches. Her lips wrapping around the base and sucking hard to light it up made me shiver for the second time that night.

All the things I had felt in the bathroom came flooding back… to the sight of her getting ready to torture someone.

And even as the boy whimpered and continued to beg for mercy, I felt the tingles grow more violent when she cut open his shirt, dropped the still lit match onto his skin and then finally, forcefully, smothered the red hot cigar tip at the base of his throat.

The smell of burning flesh was overwhelming.

I nearly lost myself to the surreal atmosphere of it all.

Pam had planted herself on the edge of the desk and was casually examining her nail beds as she watched on.

Then after a few more delicately placed scorch marks on his neck and chest, Santana took one last graceful, seductive puff from the cigar before handing it to me and picking her large knife back up to twirl between practiced fingers.

I had always thought that smoking was gross. But after catching a glimpse of the faint lipstick stain on the cigar, for a fleeting moment I wanted to cover it with my own mouth and take in a breath… just to taste where her lips had been.

His groans of anguish had dulled a bit by that point and he was just heaving for breath. I could hear the erratic beat of his terrified heart everywhere in my body. It was incredible.

I should have felt mercy. I should have felt disgust.

But instead all I could register was the shimmering look in Santana's eyes and the way it went straight to my core.

She dug her knees in to get in better position and then began. With the first cut, his screaming started back up in full force.

Her expression and the nimble movement of her wrists was like a dance... like she was creating a work of art to be remembered throughout the ages... like she was pouring her every emotion into carving a heart on a tree with the initials of her true love inside.

But really she was just mutilating this stupid kid's face.

Why did it feel like I was getting off on this? When did I become so cold and heartless?

The blood dribbled down his face, blinding him and seeping through his teeth into an open mouth. His body writhed and the fingernails of his unbroken hand were also bleeding and split from the relentless grip he had on the carpeted floor. If it wasn't such a messed up image, it could almost be beautiful.

And the smell, even though it sent my head into a pleasant spin, still wasn't enough to make me lunge for a taste.

He wasn't worthy. His blood was probably full of icky sexual diseases anyways.

I wouldn't want to make myself sick. Especially since my tummy was still delightfully warm and full from feeding earlier.

The last part was the least fun. But only because I didn't like seeing him naked.

It almost killed the weirdly thrilling vibe of it all.

Santana cut off the rest of his clothes and Pam pulled a pair of handcuffs from inside a different drawer on the desk, handing them over with about as much interest as someone passing a pot of tea.

Santana gave me another sort of giddy smirk and I couldn't help but laugh again as we dragged him out to the curb, shoved a dirty old bar rag into his mouth and locked his arms in place behind the light pole, on full display.

I wonder if Santana would have gone harder on him if she could hear his thoughts too. I bet all those girls he took advantage of would have thanked us.

Now everyone will know what a 'dickhead' he truly is.

* * *

Later, when Santana and I settled into her coffin for the day, I had to wonder what my reaction to my first glimpse of true, unapologetic cruelty had meant.

We didn't talk about it, but I think she could tell that something in me had shifted after what we did and I needed some time to process it.

I never, not in a million years, would have thought I could appreciate witnessing something so sick and twisted. But I did.

I _really_ did.

It awakened something inside of me that I didn't even know was there. Something hollow and spiteful. Something evil.

Was this what it felt like to let my new vampire side fully take over?

I felt attracted to the raw violence and corruption. I was fascinated by that boy's cries of agony and captivated by Santana's wicked smile.

Instead of being haunted by the memory of it all as I closed my eyes, it played on repeat like the soothing sound of the ocean crashing against a rocky shore.

It was oddly calming to me.

It made me press my body back into Santana's to feel her grip my waist tighter and hum into my hair.

Because even if I still wasn't sure if I trusted her completely, or if I was done feeling angry about what she had taken from me, I was beginning to accept that she was right all along. That being here, in the darkness with her, was where I belonged now. I could never go back. I could never be what I was before.

That strange itch, which had been gnawing away at me ever since I first woke up to see the world in the shadow of blood and brutality and eternal life, was brought to center stage.

All because some sleazy asshole made a pass at me? No.

I think I was just waiting for something like this. The animal part of me was begging to be poked so that I would let go of the leash, if only a little bit. I understand that now.

So much of me was changing… and so quickly. I went from denying my hunger, desperately not wanting to hurt anyone and hating myself for what I'd become to _this… _this soulless, malicious, sadistic fiend who took pleasure in inflicting pain on others.

It was everything I was so convinced wouldn't happen when I was first turned. Everything I heatedly protested that I would never succumb to…

The blood was just too sweet though. The urge to give in to this feeling was just too strong.

And on just my second night as a vampire, I had already seen and done things that I would never have imagined in my worst nightmares.

But what's more… I liked it.

What the hell is happening to me?

* * *

**A/N: Sorry I haven't had the chance to reply to all my lovely reviews individually. But I'd just like to say a general "thanks for reading and for the awesome feedback!" **

**If you're interested I made some cover art on my tumblr (post/37256330375) and also posted the list of songs which inspire much of my writing for this fic (post/35976988286/when-your-heart-stops-beating-playlist). Check my author page for the actual tumblr name.  
**


	5. Chapter 5: Sugar Water

**A/N: T****hanks to my wonderful Beta!Jay and to MagicMica for her magical pep talks and support.  
**

* * *

_Santana  
_

_1820 – San Diego, California _

"_Santana!"_

_Clenching my teeth, I hurry over to collect a pitcher of wine from the counter. I've only been working as a barmaid for two weeks and I already hate it. _

_I hate the drunken old men ogling me and slapping my rear as I walk by. I hate the whores who buy glasses of hard liquor to clean the filth from their mouths. And I especially hate the owner of the tavern, my boss, Juan._

_It's not for any good reason in particular. I just thoroughly dislike his beady little eyes and dirty, unkempt beard and hair. His rotten teeth make my skin crawl and simply having to stand near his large, sweaty frame is enough to make me want to dry-heave. _

_In my books, that's all more than enough reason to hold fair disdain for someone. And that's not even counting his obnoxious personality. _

"_For the lady in pink." He sniffs and wipes his nose on his soiled shirt sleeve. Instead of making eye-contact, his gaze locks onto my chest and lingers. _

_I shudder. _

_I can't stand the way he looks at me… and I wish for nothing more than to tell him to shove that grubby shot glass he's polishing up his giant rear._

_But after twenty years of learning my place in this world, I know better than to disobey._

_This still beats doing hard labour on the farm. _

_Unwilling and unable to remove the glare from my face, I march myself over to the woman in pink and set her wine down on the table. She doesn't seem to be from around here. Her dress is too bright and clean, and her face is too pale to be on familiar terms with the unyielding California sun. Her hands are not cracked or dry from work and her fingernails do not bare a single speck of mud. She's young, probably only thirty or so, and with her perfect posture, she holds the distinct air of the upper class, looking quite out of place in the dingy atmosphere of the bar. _

_She gives me a questioning glance when I have stared for a few moments too long without speaking._

_I clear my throat."Your wine?" I ask, suddenly feeling nervous under her steely grey gaze._

"_Thank you." Her accent is unfamiliar. She's definitely not a local._

"_Is there anything else I can get for you?" _

"_No. That'll be all for now." She dismisses me and I return to my work, taking orders and cleaning tables. _

_It isn't until I am preparing to close for the night that I notice she is still sitting there, with her legs crossed and hands folded neatly on the table, watching me. Juan has already retired to the back room – which doubles as his bedroom - where he promptly fell asleep, and once I have finished clearing out the usual drunks and stragglers, I realize that this strange woman and I are the only ones left in the bar. _

_Our eyes meet again and I feel as though we are sharing a deep conversation without actually speaking any words. It's almost like she's searching for something, curious but at the same time critical. It's unnerving. _

_Did I forget her order?_

_No, it can't be that. She hasn't even touched the pitcher I delivered to her a few hours ago. Not one drop. _

_Why did she order it if she didn't plan on drinking it? _

_She just sat there, by herself, scribbling on what looked to be a letter._

_Who comes into a tavern to write letters and doesn't eat or drink anything at all?_

_A slithering cold creeps up my spine as she raises an eyebrow in my direction._

_I'm not sure who this stranger is but suddenly I feel like I want to be as far away from her as possible. _

_Collecting my coat from the rack, I walk over to her, back straight and resolve in place. "It's closing time, Miss."_

"_I can see that." She hums._

"_So uh... I'm afraid you'll have to be on your way now." I shuffle the thick coat in my arms anxiously. That uncomfortable cold feeling grows stronger as she pushes her chair back to stand. _

_I turn away from her and take quick strides towards the door, breathing a sigh of relief when I hear her footsteps follow steadily behind. _

_Once we're both outside and I've locked the tavern door, I spin back around to find her still watching me. _

_The air soon grows tense and I'm beginning to feel very uneasy in her presence._

"_It's late ya know. Isn't someone comin' to walk you home darlin'?" She's an inch or so taller than me and I force myself not to shrink back from her when she moves closer. _

"_I'll have you know, I can handle myself just fine."_

_A wry smile crinkles her pink painted lips. "Is that so?"_

"_Y-yes." I swallow._

"_Well, you could'a fooled me. That barkeep was orderin' you around like a stray dog doin' tricks for food." _

_My throat's gone tight. My heart's beating fast. I can hear the erratic thumping in my ears. I don't know why exactly but there is just something _not right_ about this woman. It's in the way she speaks so mockingly… the way she moves her tall frame with such poise… the dark, scrutinizing twinkle in her eyes…_

_Without replying, I turn and start off in the opposite direction. She follows._

"_You're not from around here." I muse, mostly to myself. _

"_I'm just passin' through." _

"_So you don't know how things work." I argue stubbornly. _

"_I don't?" She's fallen into step beside me as I hurry down the dark, deserted road and towards my parent's farm on the outskirts of town._

"_No…" I sigh. "I'm not sure what it's like where you come from, but here, I couldn't talk back to that pig even if I wanted to... Not to him, not to my parents, and not to my..." I stop. Stop speaking, stop moving, stop everything. I can't even bring myself to say the word._

"_Your...?" She comes around to face me, her lips pursed and eyebrows tensed. _

"_My... fiancé." I cringe even as it leaves my tongue. _

_I feel her studying me yet again with her icy stare. "I take it you don't want to marry him?"_

"_My parents are forcing me." I reply through gritted teeth. "He's rich and our farm is struggling... Even though I took a job at the tavern to try and bring in more money, they're still making me go through with it... Our wedding is next month."_

_I don't know why I'm telling her all of this. _

_It might be the mesmerizing grip of her stark, ashen eyes. Or it could just be the fact that she's the first person who's ever bothered to seem even the slightest bit interested in what I have to say. _

"_You wish you could leave?" She brushes some hair from my face. It's an oddly intimate gesture. _

_I'm too scared and distracted to question it though. So I just nod. "All the time." My gaze flickers to the ground and I bite my lip under her intense focus. "Every night, I dream about stealing a horse and riding as far away as it will take me... but..."_

"_But?" She takes another step closer and lifts my chin so I'm looking into her eyes once again._

"_But I'm so afraid... I'm afraid that if I stay, my life will become a nightmare... and I'm afraid that if I leave, I could end up starving to death or… worse. I have no money of my own and no skills. How would I survive?"_

_An unreadable expression passes over her face before her lips slowly begin to curl up into a smile. _

"_What if I told you I knew of a way? A way to escape all of that fear and doubt... A way to have a life so much greater than anything that could possibly await you here... Would you want to take it?" _

_I think for a moment. I don't know what this outsider is offering me but I'm not sure if I have anything left to lose either. I don't want to work my fingers to the bone on the farm or slave away in that awful, grimy tavern anymore. And I certainly don't want to stay here and submit to the future my parents have set out for me... a loveless marriage with a wealthy yet egotistical merchant, who only seems to like me for my large chest and small waist, but otherwise treats me like I am worth about as much as the dirt beneath his boot... _

"_Yes... I'd do anything to make that happen."_

_Her smile morphs into a broad smirk, for the first time revealing razor sharp and unnaturally protruding canines. My heart lurches and the lump in my throat swells even larger. "That's just what I wanted to hear."_

"_Who are you?" I hear myself asking, my head tilted to the side in dazed confusion._

"_Darlin', I'm your guardian angel."_

* * *

"Ugh yes. Fuck... Harder."

Sporadic moans and a muted, rhythmic thumping drag me from my slumber just after sunset. Without even opening the lid of my coffin, I already know exactly what the racket is.

I let out a frustrated sigh.

I really wish that Mike could keep his morning glory to himself sometimes.

At my front, Brittany murmurs something in her sleep and squeezes at my hand in her own.

The past week with her has been an interesting one. After offering some traditional vampire hospitality to our dim-witted male acquaintance, I have sensed a strong conflict within her. It's not difficult to guess what troubles her. She didn't feel comfortable with her newfound appreciation for violence and carnage. Any young vampire, especially one with her thick shades of vibrancy and innocent charm, might feel the same struggle within them... lingering human morals battling against the dark, remorseless desires that are born from losing one's mortal soul.

But it wasn't simply that. There was more.

Our shared feedings continued to leave us both frustrated and aching for something that neither was willing to act upon yet. And her eyes danced with so many confined emotions at times that I was almost waiting for them to bleed from the strain.

I also find myself wondering now and again if Brittany's blood had smelled and tasted so irresistible to me on the night we met simply due to insanely strong pull I feel for her, or if it was something more... something unusual. She hasn't really given me any reason to think she's anything other than normal. And if she were hiding something important about who she is, wouldn't I have noticed by now?

The thought makes me curious to say the least...

But that's another matter.

What's important is that she's likely been feeling confused and overwhelmed with the changes in her life and the novel experiences that came with them. It was only natural.

The problem was she didn't trust me enough to talk about it. She didn't trust me enough to initiate in depth conversation, or ask many questions that weren't practical in nature. Even though in some ways we have grown closer during our brief time together and she relies on me to teach her things and gently guide her through her new life, I feel as if she is still holding back so much that, at times, it physically pains her.

She's afraid. She's weary. And she's hiding from me.

Because she was never given a choice.

I took away the most important choice of her existence without her consent.

And now, even though I can sense some of what she is feeling through our physical link, I am not a mind reader. I cannot help her unless she is willing to give me at least a small glimpse of her true self.

But that is something I know I need to earn.

I have to find a way to make up for what I stole from her if I ever want to gain her confidence and encourage our bond to develop properly... in the way that I believe a maker and their kin's connection should be... passionate, unquestioning and as deep as the core of the earth itself.

Although the nature of these relationships can vary, the ties are always dense and sturdy. And I want that for myself and Brittany more than anything.

Thinking back, I realize now that what I have with Pam is so special and solid largely because of how I was turned. She gave me the final decision to end my own life, even though I wasn't completely aware of what she was alluding to at the time. It had been a shock to have her rip me from my miserable human life and turn my entire existence upside down in such a vicious manner. But somehow, she knew that was what I wanted… what I needed. It was what I prayed for every night when I awoke from nightmares of being traded to a stranger like currency.

I practically gave her the consent from my own lips.

And once I had adjusted to the transformation and we were free of the place I once called my home, I almost wanted to get down on my knees and thank her.

So of course I was able to trust her from the beginning. She was right - she had been my angel of mercy.

And for Brittany, I was anything but.

I don't know what her days were like before I stormed in and pillaged away her life force. I don't know if she was happy or sad or if she had lots of friends, or if she had pets or what her hobbies were. I don't know if she hated her parents or cherished every moment with them. I don't know if she wanted to escape or if she was perfectly happily to live out her days in a boring country town, surrounded by rednecks and simpletons. I don't know anything.

I didn't bother to find out.

I didn't give her a choice.

I was too busy following my voracious fangs.

And that's why she can't fully trust me now... not so soon.

I was naive and egotistical to think that she would be able to forgive me, or even thank me for what I did to her, without months of bitterness and arguing first. Maybe when I first turned her, that notion wouldn't have seemed so bad. But now, I don't think I could stand it.

I don't want us to waste another moment being disconnected or estranged in any way.

There's another loud thump from somewhere in the room. I release a quiet grunt of distaste and roll my eyes. Brittany just whimpers, turning awkwardly in the small space of the coffin to face me.

The delicate outline of her features stirs something in my chest... and funnily enough, I'm almost positive that it's regret.

I don't regret bringing Brittany into my world... but I do regret how I did it. I was too harsh. I gave her little sympathy. And now, as a consequence, she doesn't have faith in me. We cannot embrace the connection we share because I haven't given her any reason to think me worthy of it.

With a feather light hand on her cheek, I silently swear that I will figure out how to change that.

Otherwise, I will never forgive myself.

And it's possible she may never forgive me either.

"Uh! MIKE!" Quinn screams loudly, rousing Brittany from her drowsy half-sleep and forcing an alarmed yelp from her lips.

I narrow my eyes and flip the coffin lid open hard.

"Will you two get a fucking room?!" I shout.

A few feet away, I can see Mike and Quinn, both as naked as the day they were born, pressed up against the dark brick wall and humping madly. She's got her legs wrapped around his waist while he ploughs up into her from beneath.

Unfortunately, it's not a new sight to me at all.

I contain a wince.

"This _is _my room, sis. It's both of ours." Mike smirks at me over his shoulder.

Beside me, Brittany is sitting up as well, her eyes widening a bit as she catches a glimpse of the extremely enthusiastic fornication going on not far away.

"Why wasn't I an only child?" I sigh and take Brittany's hand in my own as we climb out of our resting place and make our way towards the stairs. "Come on B. Let's leave them to it."

"Bye Quinn." Brittany chirps with a cute little wave when we're almost at the top.

I chuckle, finding her subtle teasing utterly adorable, and throw back a sarcastic smile of my own.

Quinn glares menacingly. It just makes me laugh even harder.

On our way out, Brittany grabs her leather jacket – just one of the many pieces of her new wardrobe that we picked up in the past week – from where it's draped over a chair in the back room. Her sense of style has made me raise an eyebrow more than a few times. Apparently, since being turned, she's adopted a cross between her original sweet, quirky country girl look and a bad-ass rocker vibe. She pairs bright colors with military jackets, patterned skirts with combat boots and fuzzy hats and scarves. And despite making fun of my leather ensembles, she resigned to buying a coat of her own for when we go out riding.

I'm amazed by how fascinated I am with little details like her fashion sense. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't care in the slightest about such trivial things. But with Brittany, each new discovery just leaves me wanting to know more and more.

"I want to take you somewhere different tonight."

Brittany gives me a curious smile as we approach my bike. "Is that so?"

"Yes." I reach into my pocket and toss her my keys. "And I want you to drive."

"Me?" Her eyebrows shoot up.

"Yes, you. Do you know how to ride?" I am fully prepared to teach her should her answer be no. I want her to know that I am willing to put my utmost faith in her, in everything we do… even something as simple as driving.

"I do actually." She smirks. "I've been riding motocross since I was ten."

I laugh, impressed. I definitely hadn't expected that. She's just full of interesting surprises. "Well then Evil Kenevil, let's see what you can do."

With a sexy eyebrow wiggle, she confidently hops onto the bike, turns the engine on and kicks it off the stand. I slide in behind her and try not to seem too eager when I wrap my arms firmly around her waist.

She takes off out of the parking lot with a bit more acceleration than necessary. I smile when her blonde hair starts to whip at my face as we roar down the road.

The cool wind and the rumble of the bike's engine are both soothing and exhilarating as I nestle further into her back and move my lips close to her ear. I'd like to use the excuse that she wouldn't be able to hear my directions if I were talking any further away… but then again, I could just as easily shout.

It doesn't matter though. I don't think there's too much point in trying to hide my attraction to her. Although I still refuse to act on it, Brittany is smart, and I would be very surprised if she hasn't noticed the way I look at her and the way I have to bite back my physical urges when we are close… even more so when we have just fed. My logic for keeping sex out of the equation is the same as it was a week ago. It's too soon. I want to show her respect. And of course, there's no doubt that I need to be deserving of her trust first.

She is not just another notch on my bedpost… There are more important things at stake in our relationship than fulfilling carnal wishes.

I close my eyes and force myself to think about anything other than the fact that my hips are pressed tight up against her ass.

Sex would only amplify our problems right now.

But none of that reasoning changes the fact that my desire for her grows every day... especially as I continue to get to know her and discover all of the little traits and idiosyncrasies that make Brittany who she is.

It all draws me in further… makes me crave her more.

And it's another reason why I am so desperate for her to open up to me and tell me what's going on inside her head.

I murmur a few more instructions to her along the way and within the hour, we are at our destination.

Brittany seems confused but doesn't ask any questions when I tell her to pull off the road and park the bike behind a nearby tree. She shuts off the engine and I take her hand to lead her into the forest.

There aren't many signs of civilization nearby. No houses or shops or even streetlamps. The woods are thick and dark, and the only light that can be seen is that coming from the half-moon overhead, flittering through the branches and leaves, and peppering the ground with a dull white glow. It doesn't matter to us too much though. Our eyesight is far beyond than that of any humans. We can see perfectly in the dark.

I gently tug on the hand in mine and guide us onwards.

After about ten minutes, we reach a clearing, and right in the middle is a large, freshwater lake. To our left, there is a small wooden dock protruding past the rocky perimeter of the water. It's old and neglected, but sturdy enough. With the absence of tree branches crossing overhead, the stars are free to kiss the surface of the lake with their light.

I turn back to Brittany and see her eyes shining, a meek smile lifting the corner of her mouth.

"I thought that it might be nice… you know, for a change… from the usual uh…" I curse myself for becoming suddenly nervous. I'm never nervous. I lick my lips and attempt to collect my thoughts. "What I mean to say is - I wanted to show you this place. I come here sometimes… to reflect and unwind. I find it very peaceful."

"It's beautiful." Thankfully Brittany didn't seem to notice my awkward stumble. She's taken a couple more steps towards the lake and is crouching down to skim her fingertips across the surface.

"You're not too hungry, are you? I mean, I think I have a bottle of Tru Blood on the bike but I know how much you hated-"

She grins over her shoulder. "I'm okay for now."

"Good... Because I was hoping that maybe we could stay here for a while and… talk."

She seems surprised by that, and slowly straightens up to walk back over to me. "You wanna _talk_?"

"Yeah." I nod and offer her what I hope is a kind smile. "Or we could swim. Or just sit… Whatever you like."

Brittany seems to study me for a long moment, her eyebrows crinkling with suspicion. "What's the catch?"

I sweep some hair behind my ear and sigh as I take a step towards her. "There's no catch, Britt. I just don't feel like we've had the chance to really get to know each other properly yet." I shrug. "And I figured if we're going to be spending eternity together, now is as good a time as any to start sharing."

She frowns and folds her arms over her chest. But that expression soon transforms into a mischievous smirk. "What makes you think I'm going to spend the rest of my immortal life hanging out with your sorry butt?"

If I didn't know by the twinkle in her eye that she was joking, I might have felt a tiny flicker of fear at that comment. "It may be sorry but it's still fucking hot." I turn to show her exactly what I mean and start unzipping my jacket as I stalk over to the lake. "You can't argue with that."

"You're so full of yourself." She laughs, rolling her eyes.

I ignore her with a smug grin, glancing back over my shoulder while I unhook my bra. Her pupils flare almost imperceptibly as they follow my movements.

She's not ready to talk yet. That's why she's teasing me. She's trying to make light of a situation that I was attempting to frame as serious and earnest.

But that's okay. I'm not going to push her.

I'll play along and maybe she'll feel more comfortable later.

I kick off my shoes and socks as I move closer to the lake's edge. "Are you coming in?" I ask, finally sliding my jeans and underwear down in one smooth motion.

Without looking back at her to see if she's following, I wade in until I'm deep enough to dive forward and submerge my body completely.

The water is warm on my cool skin and I allow the feeling of weightlessness to envelop me for what feels like an age, floating aimlessly in the black somewhere just below the surface.

It isn't until I feel a wave break over the otherwise peaceful lake and jostle my body around that I return upright.

Brittany's treading water only a few feet away with a bashful smile on her face. Although I can only see the tops of her bare shoulders, judging by the pile of clothes laid next to mine on the ground I'd say it's safe to assume that she's naked too.

"Hey." She giggles.

"Hi." I smile, swimming closer.

"We're not gonna get attacked by an alligator in here, are we?" She asks gravely.

I chuckle. "I don't think alligators like the taste of vampires."

"How do you know?"

"Just a hunch." I smirk. "Besides, they couldn't take us even if they tried."

Brittany grins at this, her nose scrunching cutely. "Because we're so fast and strong and awesome, right?"

"Right."

"I bet I'm faster and stronger and more awesome than you." She taunts in a sing-song voice.

"Is that a challenge?" I lift my eyebrow at her. I'm amused by this cocky, playful side of Brittany. She knows very well that I could not only best her in any feat of physical strength or speed, but I also have the power of my words to command her as my progeny. She would be helpless in a real fight against me. And yet she doesn't seem to feel any hesitance at all about provoking me.

"Race you to the other side of the lake?" She turns to face her goal and grins impishly.

"If you insist." I laugh.

"Okay... Ready... Set... GO!" She takes off in a blur, swimming as fast as she can.

I give her a second or two head start and take the time to admire her valiant efforts.

When I feel ready, I push my body up and out of the water, running fast enough so that I can skip along the surface and speed right past her.

I'm standing on the bank when Brittany emerges from under the water on the other side.

"I win."

She looks at me with wide eyes and does a double-take behind her in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"I'm talented."

"That's cheating." She pouts and splashes me childishly.

"Not true. Technically, we never established any rules." I point out with a smirk.

She just rolls her eyes and pouts even harder.

"Don't be a sore loser." I wade back into the lake and swim up close to her.

She's got her head turned away from me, refusing to make eye-contact. I splash her lightly to get her attention.

She wipes some droplets of water from her face dramatically but turns.

"Come on, Britt. I could teach you, if you like." I shrug.

Brittany's face softens from an annoyed frown to gentle curiosity. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Something inside of me melts as our eyes connect and that odd pull that I've felt to her since our very first meeting makes its presence known in my chest once again. "I mean, your speed will only increase as you get older... but in the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to start exploring and strengthening the abilities you already have."

I barely notice the way I am gravitating towards her slowly.

But then I step on her toes and our bare knees bump together and I'm drawn back to myself.

I glance away, embarrassed.

I'm not doing very well. The point of this outing wasn't to mess with her or invade her personal space.

None of that is going to prompt her to confide in me.

"Okay." Brittany's voice breaks the silence. I look up to see her expression, shy and hesitant, but also smiling gently. "Let's do it."

* * *

After exiting the water and dressing again, I spend almost an hour assisting Brittany with controlling and focusing her new vampire speed and agility. Within five or six laps of the lake's large perimeter, we are completely dry and she is grinning broadly.

She's naturally graceful in her movements. She barely needs me at all.

But we go through climbing just the same, using the abundance of trees around us as practice points.

It's not as if I'm training her for a fight. It's unlikely that she'll need to be accomplished in the mechanics of scaling tall oaks or leaping from branch to branch in order to keep herself safe or hunt her prey. Things are not like they used to be.

However, a vampire's life will never be peaceful.

Although it is illegal to possess or ingest vampire blood (or _V_, as it is sometimes known as), it is a highly sought after healing agent and type of exotic, recreational drug. Despite our superior strength and speed, _Drainers_ - those who specifically endeavor to capture vampires and bleed them dry – are still a very real threat to us, as _V _is known to be highly addictive and often carries a particularly hefty price tag. Because it is so sought after, Drainers are usually ruthless in their efforts to obtain it.

And then there's our many other supernatural foes like werewolves or witches.

And the seemingly never-ending disputes and rivalries between vampires themselves.

Unfortunately, I'm all too aware of the consequences of making a fellow vampire my enemy...

But that's beside the point.

Brittany and I finish our training session of sorts, and are now sitting on the small dock, kicking our bare feet in the water.

"You're a very fast learner." I praise. "You should be proud of the vampire you're becoming."

She nods slowly, giving me a sweet grin.

Tentatively, I move the conversation towards my original goal again. "And you shouldn't be ashamed of what happened last week."

Her face falls instantly and she looks down into the deep lake swallowing her toes. The sharp flicker of fear and pain in her gaze is enough to let me know that she is still feeling uncomfortable with her own darkness.

"I know that it wasn't something you're used to... and I can only imagine how confused you must have felt doing and seeing those kinds of things and... not really wanting to stop them." I tread carefully. I don't want to assume anything. I would rather that she explains how she feels instead of me guessing. "Would you like to... talk about it?"

She lifts her eyes to mine. They're timid... bewildered.

"I just want to help you Brittany... and if there's anything that I can do..." I blink slowly and lick my lips before continuing. "I want you to know that you don't have to do this by yourself."

She frowns. "Why would I bother? If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be like this in the first place."

The resentment cuts a bit. But I was expecting it. This is exactly how I thought she would respond to my efforts to reach out to her. "You're right."

Her eyebrows furrow in question and she waits for me to continue.

"It was wrong of me to rob you of your life the way I did. I was impulsive and driven by my own selfish compulsion to feed." I glance down for a moment, remorseful. "You have no reason to trust me. I took something that didn't belong to me... something that is far too precious to forgive easily. But Brittany, you have to know, even though I can never make up for what I've done, I want more than anything to prove myself to you now." I find her gaze and hold it sincerely. "I want you to feel like you can share anything with me... _ask_ anything of me."

Something softens in pale blue, her head tilting to the side. "That's very sweet, Santana... But you can't just say some pretty words and make everything go away you know."

"I know that." I nod. "I have to start somewhere though."

Following the slight shrug of my shoulders, a faint grin creeps up onto her lips.

"I brought you here tonight so that you would know that I care about you a great deal and... you're very special to me..." I return her grin with a smile of my own. "I will do everything in my power to show you that I am deserving of your trust and your respect. And I'm going to begin by apologizing."

She raises her eyebrows at that, clearly surprised.

I take her hands in my own and set my jaw. "Brittany... I'm sorry. I had no right to do what I did. And if it takes me the rest of eternity to win your favor back, then so be it... I'd just be honoured to share my eternity with you at all."

She chews at her bottom lip and her eyelashes flutter as she holds back another smile. "Thank you."

I'm so relieved that I almost want to lunge forward and kiss her. It might not be total forgiveness but I'm thrilled to have some indication of her fiery anger melting away nevertheless.

She may not be ready to share _everything_ that has been bothering her with me at the moment. But at least we're working towards a place where she might be willing to do so in the future.

For a minute or so, we just smile at each other, happy to have reached some manner of truce for the time being.

Then Brittany sighs and breaks the reverie. "You're right though. The way I felt about the things we did to that boy were super confusing."

"It's completely understandable."

"I didn't think I was... I mean, I _hoped _I wasn't capable of... that sorta thing. Yeah, becoming a vampire wasn't my decision, but that... I wanted to hurt him. I wanted you to hurt him... I liked watching him suffer." She cringes and shakes her head in disgust before pushing on. "It was scary and now I can't stop wondering, what else I am capable of? What other messed up stuff will I like? Will I be able to control the way I react to it even if I wanted to? And like, is this just happening because I drink blood now? Or did I always have these feelings inside of me?" Brittany tugs her lip between her teeth again. "I'm afraid that I never really knew myself at all... What if I was this psycho killer the whole time and I just didn't know it?"

I squeeze her hands in mine in what I hope is a reassuring manner. "You're not evil, Britt. Being a vampire doesn't mean that you lose yourself. It just means that you discover another side of yourself that you never would have been able to access had you remained human your whole life."

"So you're saying it's possible that I might have gotten off on torturing someone while I was still alive, but because I never actually experienced it, I didn't know it was something I was into?"

"No, not necessarily." I reason. "Your body's natural instincts and urges are probably responsible for a lot of what you felt towards that boy that night. It's part of a vampire's makeup to crave destruction and violence on some level, no matter how intrinsically good the human beneath once was... But you're also still you. You have the same heart and the same wonderful individuality that you've always had." I cup her cheek lightly. "Now it's just a matter of finding a balance between the two where you feel comfortable."

A faint smile covers her mouth before she falters. "I don't want to have these thoughts though... I don't want to be scared that I might be turning into a horrible monster."

"Just by saying that, you're guaranteeing that you will never become one. Having that kind of conscience and awareness of your darkness is not something that all vampires possess." I slide my hand down to rest on the side of her neck, lightly running my thumb over soft skin. "You're a rare breed."

She licks her lips, nodding thoughtfully, as if trying to take in the truth of my words and comfort herself with them. But then she hesitates again. "Wait, does that mean you don't feel that way? You don't worry about the people you hurt or feel afraid that the darkness is taking over?"

I release her from my hold and place my hands in my lap. "No... I do."

"Then how come it doesn't seem like it?"

"I've been a vampire for a long time... hundreds of years. And although my human life seems far from my memory now, I never forget that I am more than just the demon that resides within me." I brush back some dark hair from my face. "When the vampire side of me wants to take control, I let it. I embrace it. I accept it as a part of me... But I also never allow myself to completely lose sight of who I once was, and who I am when the bloodlust isn't driving me on blindly. My existence isn't just senseless fists and fangs. There are other things that are important to me... It took some time, but I found my balance... And even though it might not be quite the same as yours, it works for me."

Brittany rubs at her temple, sighing a little dejectedly. "I just wish my head didn't feel so mixed up all the time..."

"Have patience, B. Everything's going to be okay. I swear it."

She nods and gives me a brave half smile. Without thinking on it, I scoot over and wrap her up in my arms.

She stiffens at first, but after a few moments her muscles relax and she returns the hold tentatively.

I realize now that the draw I feel to her runs far deeper than any sexual, romantic or even possessive notion. I want to be more than just her maker, more than just her friend, more than just her lover... I want to be her entire world.

Because she feels a lot like mine.

Just as I explained to her that being a vampire is piece of who she is, she is starting to feel like a piece of who I am... a very critical piece actually, one that I wasn't aware I was missing until I looked into her eyes for the first time.

And now, holding her close, I am not simply cradling my progeny or embracing a companion... I am finding something that I didn't even know I had lost... and praying more than anything that she can feel it too.

Is this why I'm so anxious to make things right with her immediately?

When we eventually part, I hold her gaze for a long time, hoping that she knows just how much she means to me and how much I meant what I said earlier. I don't often apologize. In fact, I can't recall the last time I used the word _sorry_ in a meaningful way or expressed any genuine remorse for my actions. But Brittany deserves that and much more.

A sudden idea forms in my mind, and although it's probably silly and insignificant – just like allowing her to drive my bike - I think she might appreciate the effort regardless.

"I want to try something." I announce as I move to stand.

"What do you mean?" She cocks her head to the side.

"Here." I reach a hand out, urging her to take it so I can pull her to her feet. When she's standing beside me, I grasp her hips lightly and position her on the edge of the dock, back turned to the water. I stand in front of her, facing the same direction. "Now, I'm going to close my eyes and let myself fall backwards... and you're going to catch me."

"Seriously? You want to do a trust fall?" She giggles. "I didn't realize we were at summer camp."

I look over my shoulder and roll my eyes at her. "Very funny."

"I thought so." She shrugs cheekily.

"As I was saying... even though I know you don't really trust me yet, and perhaps rightly so... I trust you." I explain.

"Okay then." I can hear the grin her in voice still. "Close your eyes and let go."

I steady myself, cross my arms over my chest with my palms laid flat on the front of my shoulders, and shut my eyes. My knees are tensed so that I can't use them as a safety net should I need to stumble back.

Then, I let myself fall.

And I keep falling.

I knew that she'd moved the second I started my descent. Her presence is at my side now and I can only imagine the mischievous smirk on her lips.

But I don't right myself, even though I could. I fall down into the water, fully clothed, just to show her how willing I am to put my fate in her hands.

I hear her laughing loudly when I return to the surface.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"You're so lame!" She keeps laughing, clutching at her stomach while I climb back onto the dock and sweep away the drenched hair that's stuck to my face.

"You're aware we're sharing a motorbike on the ride home right?" I raise an eyebrow, smiling.

Her grin falls, if only slightly. "I'll have to make sure to drive extra fast so you dry off then." And with a wink, she takes off through the woods, not even stopping to look back to see if I'm following.

I let out a chuckle of my own.

I really do adore her playfulness. And I couldn't be more pleased with how the night went and what she felt comfortable enough to share with me. It wasn't much, and I still wish I knew more about her past and who she was before I turned her... but all in good time. It was progress.

Things definitely seem to be moving in the right direction.

* * *

**Merry belated Christmas and Happy New Year everyone!**


	6. Chapter 6: Where is My Mind?

**A/N: So I'm guessing you might have noticed there was a gigantic gap between updates. And I could tell you that it was writer's block or that my life has been really busy lately (both of which are partially true), but I think you all know the real reason...**

**I've been sulking. Because canon is like an enormous black hole, consuming all the hope and love and happiness in the world, and replacing it with emotional torture, anguish and spite. **

**I don't know about you guys, but I'm putting down my deposit on that ten acre Unicorn ranch in Happyville... and then I'm never leaving.**

**Thanks to Beta!Jay and ****MagicMica** for the assistance. 

* * *

_Brittany_

"Oh look, it's Princess Bitch. Back for another fucking are we m'lady?"

"Ugh, you're still around? And here I was hoping you'd finally suffocated on your giant tits, Elvira."

"I might have... if I actually had to _breathe_... but I guess you're always too busy bouncing up and down on Mike's pogo stick and moaning like a banshee to notice that vampires don't require oxygen to survive."

Quinn and Santana are fighting again. What a surprise.

Nothing provoked it. Quinn and Mike literally just walked into the backroom at Fangtasia as we were making our way out and they started. I'm beginning to wonder if the mere sight of each other is enough to set them off. It's become such a routine now that I'm not even that entertained by their clever little insults anymore. Instead, I settle for rolling my eyes and tuning them out as best I can. I'm pretty sure Mike has it under control anyways, so I lean back on the edge of the desk and let my mind drift.

In the weeks since Santana and I spent that night together at the lake, things have felt different. She's tried so hard and been so apologetic and genuine… it really surprised me that she was capable of that kinda stuff. Even though I'd caught glimpses of her softer side in the past, it wasn't quite enough to make up for all the parts of my world that felt sharp and unforgiving. But her remorse, and deliberate efforts to show how her trust in me since that night, have been a nice comfort. It's changing the way I feel about her. And I think it's even helping to dissolve some of that lingering resentment I have.

I don't know if I'll ever really be able to think back on how she turned me and be at peace with what happened. It still stings. And it still makes me wanna slap her and call her every bad name I can think of… But knowing that she's actually sad about the violent way she took my life and that now, she's more than willing to try and make it up to me however she can, means a lot.

"…blood-sucking, carpet-diving, demon whore!"

"Ha! At least I'm not just _dinner and a show_!"

Whatever.

I shake my head. I'm still not listening.

Anyways, I know it's strange but, I feel myself growing almost content with how my new life as turned out. Although there's still a lot of things that I don't understand, or know about, or even want to accept yet, I like being with Santana. She looks at me like I'm something special. She cares about me and always considers what I want and how I'm feeling. And when we do talk, whether it's a super serious conversation or not, she always does her best to understand… even when I forget to draw the line between my imagination and reality... or I voice a thought that everyone else might consider odd.

I don't think it's just due to the fact that her world, filled with vampires and demons and monsters, is already the stuff of fantasy. Because even amongst all that, debates about whether or not unicorns can grant wishes and discussions surrounding the social hierarchy of ducks are still pretty weird. But she never makes me feel crazy. Or looks at me like whatever random notion I'm entertaining at the time is strange at all. No. She actually seems to enjoy it, with an amused smile and an attentive ear. And then, when I start to get too lost, she somehow manages to keep me grounded. That way I don't end up giving myself a headache.

I think that's what I like the most about being with her – we're pretty much opposites. She lets me play those silly games when I need an escape from the confusing new world I'm in, and I let her debate and rationalize, and keep some kind of order when things start to get too crazy. But regardless of our differences, we sorta… _work _together.

I guess you could even say we're almost… friends?

Huh. Weird.

"…slaving away behind the counter at Walmart? Or have you just got inhumanly bad PMS again? You know, I thank the gods that Mike can't knock you up. With that fucking insane temperament, you'd have more chance of giving birth to a rattle snake!"

"Oh yeah? Well the first thing I'm gonna do with my poisonous snake-baby is sick it on your nasty, dead ass!"

I breathe out heavily. Who knows how much longer this is will go on. They seem pretty into it tonight.

The truth is, as much as we've been getting along lately, I don't know if I'll ever really, completely _get_ Santana. She still surprises me with some of the things she says. But I guess that's to be expected with a two-hundred year old vampire. The age gap is kinda intense.

And old people do have a lot of layers… Not that I think of her as _old _exactly…

She does look damn good for her age…

But that's not the point.

It's just that… there's still so much about her that I don't know. She hasn't really told me anything about her past, or what her life was like before she became a vampire. Not that I can blame her. I haven't been all that forthcoming about my past either…

I don't have any issues talking to her about my feelings or asking her questions now. She's a pretty good listener, and she definitely helped me to reconcile my vampire needs with some of the human bits I wanna hang on to. I'm beginning to feel more in control of myself. Santana said that it'd get easier to manage my urges with time. And since I accepted it as just another part of who I am now, I'm certainly not as afraid of that dark side myself anymore.

But there are just some things that I'm not ready to share with her yet…

"Go suck some more dead frozen dick." Santana barks loudly, all venom. I sigh, deciding to give up and focus back in on their ongoing verbal battle.

"Watch it San! That's my dead frozen dick you're talking about!" I suppress a giggle at Mike's look of offense and disgust, and watch as he tightens his grip on Quinn's waist to prevent her from lunging forward at Santana.

"Why? Are you jealous? You wish I was tonguing that cold, vampire vag of yours instead because you're not getting any from _vanilla puddin' _over there?"

Santana growls when Quinn points in my direction. The sound draws a little tingle down my spine. "First of all – I'd rather fuck a chainsaw than have any part of you come anywhere _near_ me. And secondly, fucking talk about Brittany like that again and I'll rip out your teeth one by one and wear them as coffee-stained, redneck jewellery."

"Oh you are so _whipped_!" Quinn laughs. "Look how riled up you get at the tiniest mention of her! Did I finally hit a nerve?" I watch Santana's fangs extend from the corner of my eye. "Just admit it Santana - you love to dish it out but you can't take it. You're Brittany's maker and yet you follow her around like a fucking lost puppy all the time! And you know what the saddest part is? From what I can tell, you aren't even getting the pussy to back it up!"

Mike cringes as he continues to hold Quinn back from Santana. He knows that jibe was one too far.

Astonishingly though, Santana doesn't blow up. She just grits her teeth and glares. "Mike, get her out of here."

"That's right, call in your brother to clean up your mess! As usual!"

"I've had enough of your childish bullshit for one night, Quinn. You're really beginning to test my patience." Santana snarls. "Say another word and I swear it will be your last."

The air tenses with the threat. I see Mike squeeze Quinn in warning and try to distract her from her intense staring contest with Santana. She refuses to budge.

_Next time, I'm going to bring you a collar and leash so that Brittany can drag you along like the little bitch that you are. _

Instead of being offended for her, I snicker at the image of Santana shuffling along behind me on her hands and knees like a dog, panting and barking, and whining adorably when she wants a pat on the head.

Suddenly, all eyes in the room turn towards me.

Oh fuck. Quinn didn't say that last one out loud.

And now they're all wondering what the hell I'm laughing about when nobody in the room was talking and the earlier conversation definitely didn't end in a funny place.

Shit…

* * *

_2003 – Bunkie, Louisiana _

"_And does anyone know what it's called when plants convert the light from the sun into energy?" _

Photosynthesis.

_I stick my hand up quickly and grin when Miss Miller points at me. "Photosynthesis?"_

"_Very good Brittany." She smiles before looking back around the class. "And besides light, what else do plants need to live?"_

Water.

_I thrust my hand into the air again and sit up as straight as possible. _

_Miss Miller nods in my direction once more._

"_Water."_

"_Excellent Brittany. I can tell you did all your reading homework this week." She raises a pleased eyebrow at me. "Now, who else did their reading and can tell me what makes the leaves on a plant green?"_

Chlorophyll.

_I resist the urge to volunteer again, even though I know the answer. I need to give someone else a turn now. It's only fair._

_When I was younger, I used to think that I was super smart. Whenever a teacher asked a question in class, the answer would always pop straight into my head, like turning on a light switch. I never even noticed that the answer was in a voice different from my own. _

_It wasn't until I sat for my first test, taken in complete silence, that I realized just how silly I had been. _

_I knew nothing. It was my ability making me look clever. I was only tapping into my teachers' thoughts by accident and repeating what they had just told me in my head. _

_And on top of that, I couldn't even think about getting the answers from one of my classmates' minds if I'd wanted to. All of their thoughts got too loud when they were concentrating so hard. They clashed together and jumbled up... it was like wild animals tearing each other apart inside my skull. Even if I did manage to isolate one of the other "nerds" inner-voices, the effort it took gave me such an intense headache that I got a nosebleed and came close to passing out. _

_It was disappointing to say the least. _

_I mean, everyone thought I was some kind of genius. Even my parents, who knew about my powers, assumed I had this extraordinary natural intelligence and were so proud of me for being a "smart kid" in class. When I explained to them what was really happening, and brought home my very first test marked with a big red F, they weren't happy at all. They said it was wrong for me to listen in on what my teachers were thinking, that it was _cheating _and I would never learn anything if I kept using my gift to get good grades._

_I never really meant to cheat. Well, not back then at least. I was still getting used to my ability and it wasn't the easiest thing for a kid to get control over. Sometimes things still slipped out in response to an unasked question from someone else's head. A lot of people thought I was weird because of the strange stuff I would say. Add my overactive imagination and widely perceived nerdiness to the mix and it's safe to say I wasn't exactly the most popular kid in class. In fact, I don't think I had a single person my age that I could call my friend. _

_Despite all that though – or maybe because of it - I always wanted to do well in school. And I wanted to do well because I'd worked hard for it. I wanted to make my parents proud the _right_ way. So I did my very best to block out what my teachers were thinking. And when I couldn't do that, I didn't put my hand up at all._

_But as time went on, and test after test came back marked with failing or close to failing grades, I realized that working hard just didn't cut it for me. Writing up assignments wasn't really an issue. I usually got through that kinda stuff without too much trouble, as long as I had the information in front of me to draw on. It's just that the details never seemed to stick. My brain refused to store all of the facts and formulas, regardless of how many hours I spent pouring over my books every night or how much help my mom and dad tried to give me. _

_So I did the only thing I could think of to avoid being held back – I started listening again. Because even if I didn't do well in my tests, my teachers could always chalk it up to me "not handling pressure well" or "not having good test-taking skills." Some enthusiastic participation in class and my just below average grades on assignments made up for it. _

_If my parents knew that I started "cheating" again, they didn't say anything. I guess after a few years of me barely scraping through and them having to hear the same "Brittany's grades are unsatisfactory" lecture at every parent-teacher meeting, it was beginning to get old. I'm sure they were glad for the problem to magically disappear._

_Shifting my attention back to the lesson, I listen to Miss Miller rattle off another couple of questions to the class before the lunch bell rings and I grab my books to head out. _

_I make it halfway to the cafeteria, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched, before someone steps into my path._

"_Sorry." I mumble, already side-stepping to let them pass._

"_Hey Dorky Pierce." It's Puck, the one and only, resident mohawked bully of Bunkie Elementary, feared by all nerds, geeks and outsiders alike. _

"_H-hi Puck." I don't make eye-contact with him. It's usually safer that way. I'm never sure what's going to make him mad._

"_Thanks for making us look bad today in Science class." He sneers, poking me in the shoulder forcefully._

"_Yeah!" Finn pipes up from besides him. He's lanky and awkward, and his whiny voice is like nails on a chalkboard. It's pretty funny actually. But Puck has his back, so nobody would ever dare say anything. "Way to be a teacher's pet."_

"_I...I'm sorry." I stammer. "I didn't mean to make you look bad." _

"_Yeah, well you did." Puck suddenly slaps the books from my hands and laughs when I immediately drop to my knees to gather them back up. "You know, if you weren't a girl Pierce, I would totally shove you into a locker and make you stay there for the rest of the day. That would teach you for being such a dweeb."_

_I don't reply. When I have all my books, I just get up and hurry away. _

What a wimp.

Ew. She's such a freakazoid.

Nerd.

Weirdo.

Loser.

_I try to ignore the barrage of unwelcome voices in my head as I practically run down the hallway. _

_Looks like I'll be spending another lunch period in the library. _

_At least there I know I can be alone._

* * *

I feel Santana following me with her eyes as I quickly excuse myself and stride out of the back room and into the club.

The memories sparked by my slip up with Quinn are making my stomach churn anxiously.

Even though I eventually made some friends in junior high, and was actually relatively popular by the time I got to senior year of high school (because of my looks and cheerleading, and in spite of my ongoing weirdness and general nerdy behavior in class), the memory of being an outcast because of my ability still hurts.

Back then, I felt like whether I was using it to get good grades or accidentally getting things mixed up in a conversation because there was just too much going on in my head, all my so-called "gift" ever did was make me feel isolated from everyone around me.

Even my parents.

When they weren't pointedly ignoring it, they seemed to be almost afraid of it. They didn't understand my power, or why I had it. All they did was try to suppress it as much as possible.

But at least they knew why I acted the way I did.

To everyone else, I was just strange.

I think most of them were thrown by the way my airy social behavior contrasted so much with my sharp, on-point answers in class. It was like I was two different people. And to be honest, neither of those people were completely _me._

I'm starting to wonder if that's why I messed up with Quinn just then. Despite the occasional slip, I'd gotten pretty good at telling the difference between thoughts and actual speech in the last few years. This new life is getting too comfortable though. Hanging out with mostly vampires all the time, whose thoughts are unable to invade my mind, is too comfortable. It's been all too easy to forget myself.

Not only that, but I'd just been thinking about how Santana seems to have a strange knack for making me feel at ease. Maybe because of that, for the first time, I was starting to just _be_... without holding back and without worrying about putting on the right face or giving the right answers.

But now what is she going to think? Will I have to explain my ability to her?

I'm not sure I want to answer those sorta questions... not yet... and especially if it means spilling about my past.

She's already accepted so much about me that others found bizarre and unappealing. What if this is the tipping point on her weird-o-meter?

And I mean, even though we're vampires, and we live in a world where weird and supernatural shit is pretty much the norm, what if _my_ kind of weird isn't accepted? What if my powers come from something that vampires hate? Or worse, if it's something that they fear?

"Brittany?" Santana says quietly, placing a hand at the small of my back to get my attention.

I hadn't even noticed her approach.

Things were going so well between us these past few weeks. What if this changes everything?

"Are you okay?" Santana's eyebrows are furrowed as she studies my face.

It's then I notice that I've been standing right in front of the door to the back room, unmoving and deep in thought.

"Um yeah. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" I shrug off her hand and walk until I'm in front of the bar. I take a seat, swivelling around to rest my elbows on the counter top, while she sits down beside me.

Maybe this doesn't have to be so bad. Maybe I could lie. Act like it was simply another "quirk" to go with the rest of my oddities.

Maybe she didn't even realize what happened. It was only a laugh. A random, totally-inappropriate-for-the-situation laugh but... it's not so bad, right? I could pretend I was remembering a joke. Or a funny cartoon. Or something.

"You look kinda freaked." Her hand comes to rest of my forearm. It's gentle and concerned. It instantly makes me feel bad for contemplating lying.

"I'm okay." I shrug again. "I think I'm just hungry."

Santana backs off a bit at that. "Oh. Well that's understandable." She smiles in that devious way of hers. "We should probably get you someone to eat then."

I can see her searching the crowd for a worthy mark in my peripheral vision. Her face lights up wickedly when she spots one.

"Those two." She nods casually in the direction of two, identical women who are dancing close – one with bleached blonde hair and one a natural light brown. It's clear that, although the twins seem to be enjoying their grinding, they're also trying to get the attention of a vampire.

The matching velvet chokers around their necks do nothing to hide the evidence of their previous vampiric indiscretions.

Despite still feeling a little on edge, I smirk at the sight. Maybe feeding will help me to figure it all out. I turn in my chair and catch the eye of the brunette twin.

"The bathroom?" I mumble distractedly.

"The alley." Santana replies.

And before I've even had a chance to be thankful for this perfect distraction, she's up off her stool and striding towards the pair, with me instinctively hot on her heels.

"Would you two like to join us outside for a cigarette?" Santana asks, smooth and silky like melted chocolate.

"We don't smoke." The blonde giggles.

"Neither do we." I quip.

And then they're smiling in understanding and we're leading them out the back door to the alley beside the bar.

My fangs slide out as soon as the four of us are alone, the darkness of a slim, crescent moon blanketing us from any unwanted onlookers. I can't help but stare when Santana grabs the blonde and slams her up against the brick wall, already viciously digging into her meal. It sends that now familiar pleasant ripple through my torso and spurs me on as I grab the brunette by her shoulders and push her into a similar position close by.

She starts clawing at my back in anticipation and even wraps a leg around my thigh when I open up her neck with my fangs. Her blood is sweet, and for some reason reminds me faintly of cinnamon. After a little while, I almost get lost in it, if not for Santana's pinky drifting over to lace with mine where my hand presses into the wall between us. She gives a grounding squeeze and I remember myself. The minutes pass far too quickly when I'm feeding.

I cease my zealous drinking and withdraw from the girl's neck, pulling a soft whimper from her. Out of courtesy, I prick my finger on my fang and rub the blood on her wounds to close them. I saw Mike doing it with Quinn once and I thought it seemed like the least you could do for someone who just allowed you to take your fill of bliss from their veins. Santana isn't one to bother with that nicety though.

She ushers the twins back inside while I lean up against the wall.

The rich satisfaction never fails to make my head swim.

"Feel better Britt?"

I hum and nod my head as she comes to rest beside me.

"You wanna talk about what was _really_ upsetting you now?"

Fuck.

* * *

So I lied to her. Sue me.

Well, it wasn't a total lie. I told Santana that I wanted to see my family. Not go inside the house, or hug them, or sit down and explain where I've been all this time.

Just see them, through the window, from the anonymity of the front yard.

I said that I needed closure... that I wanted to see them one final time before I could let them go completely. She argued that it might make it even harder for me to detach. I swore I could handle it. And after some spirited back and forth, she eventually agreed.

It's not like I don't really feel that way – because I do – but it's also that I wanted to be near the only people who knew my secret. I wanted to remember what it was like to not have to hide that part of myself.

And mostly, I wanted to buy some time before I had to go through entering into that same realm again... this time with Santana. I wasn't at all looking forward to facing the risks which would come with opening that door to her.

I knew she wasn't gonna let it go. She's too perceptive. She probably already made the connection that whatever is up with me has something to do with what happened earlier with Quinn and Mike. And she definitely seems to have picked up on the fact that I'm going out of my way to avoid telling her the truth now. Even though she challenged me when I mentioned wanting to see my family, I could tell she still wasn't entirely convinced that was what was bothering me before.

I hated her for reading me so well. I hated her and I was fascinated by her.

Nobody had ever been able to decipher me like that. It's not like I was the most straight-forward person ever... but once again, Santana surprised me.

Even if she was aware that I was lying to her though, she didn't continue to push.

We ride the few hours back to my old town, my old house, in silence. I pull the bike up to the sidewalk about a block away in the hopes of keeping a low profile and we walk the rest of the way.

And then all too quickly, we're there. We're standing in front of the house I grew up in, the place I called my home for 18 years. That same stone path I sauntered up every day after school, the same rose bushes that my mom loved to pick at and preen on Sunday afternoons, and the same lush grass that I used to play soccer on with my little sister...

My eyes drift all over the yard before reaching the front porch, the one where I'd sit on the worn swinging chair and read while the sun set, and then finally flittering up to the white front door.

It would be so easy to go and knock on that door, to pretend that nothing had changed... but it had. So much had changed, and so fast. The people inside were no longer my family. I was no longer their sweet, if not a bit odd, teenage daughter.

It didn't stop my chest from aching for them though. They may have had their faults, but they were all I ever knew. I miss my mom's hugs and the way she'd sing constantly, even when it annoyed me so much I begged her to stop. I miss the way she'd take care of me when I was sick. I miss her lame jokes and the taste of her homemade lasagne. And my dad, as much as we were opposites and bickered more often than we should have, was so solid and dependable. He always made me feel safe. He always let me listen to my music loud and picked me up from parties without demanding to know whether or not I'd been drinking. He just gave me this little smirk and asked if I was okay.

It's easy to spot them both through the thin curtains of the living room window, sitting on the couch and watching the TV with blank expressions. I swallow thickly at the sight. But my eyes don't linger there for long. They drift to another curtain-obscured window at the front of the house, one that holds the small shadow of girl sitting on her bed and pouring over a notebook... her drawing pad.

Jamie. She'll be turning 11 soon. She was the only person that knew about my gift and never seemed to be afraid of it. Instead, she was overly curious. She used to bug me to guess what number she was thinking of and then always gasped when I would get it right. I think she wanted my power too. But she didn't understand all the sucky things that came with it. She just thought it was an awesome party trick.

I know Jamie looked up to me, despite my weirdness and the times when I would lose my patience with her. Like when she used to come into my room and jump on my bed while I was messing around on my laptop. I'd get mad and after ordering her to leave me alone several times, a ferocious tickle war would usually ensue. I even yelled at her once when I caught her drawing on my mirror with some of my lipstick. It wasn't like me, but I'd found out I was failing math that day because I'd screwed up so many of my tests. I'd always felt bad about it.

It hurts that we never got the chance to be close. She was still too young. Even though she was aware of my ability, and understood why it made me different, I knew I couldn't really confide her in the way I wanted to until she got older. When things were hard at school, or I felt frustrated about having to put on an act for my friends, I used to find comfort in the idea that someday, Jamie and I could be best friends... she could be the one person in the world who knew about my secret and didn't judge me or fear me because of it. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, she could fill that hole inside of me that craved complete acceptance. And finally, I wouldn't feel so alone.

But now things can never be like that.

Jamie is lost to me, along with my mom and dad... and all of my friends, no matter how shallow or simple those friendships were.

Everything about the girl I used to be is gone.

I feel hot, red tears sliding down my cheeks.

Do they miss me too? Have they been wondering where I went? Are they looking for me?

My face screws up when that ache in my chest becomes unbearable and I swallow hard over a sob.

I really did die. I may not be lying in a coffin in the ground but everything else is the same. The loss is just as big.

Then Santana slips her fingers into mine and tugs on my hand a bit so that I turn to face her.

"I'm sorry Brittany."

I sniffle pathetically and give her a pained smile and a one-shouldered shrug.

She untangles her fingers from mine so she can reach up with both hands and swipe at the bloody tears running down my cheeks.

I wonder for a moment if maybe I should be mad at her again. She's the reason that I'm standing here right now. She's the reason I can never return to my old life.

Instead, I feel a sort of grim concession. The feeling of her thumbs brushing at my skin gently grounds me again in my new reality. My past is in the past. My family and friends from my human life seem more and more like a hazy dream.

Things certainly weren't perfect when I was alive... nor are things going to be anywhere near perfect now that I'm dead. But I'm not alone. Not really.

As if I'm being taken over by some primal force, I lunge forward and wrap my arms around Santana, suddenly wanting desperately to have her near. She's the closest thing I'll ever have to family again. And whether or not I ever totally forgive her, whether or not I ever even completely like her, I know that I need her. On some level, I think I'm even hoping she might be the one who can seal that empty space within me now it's painfully clear that Jamie can't.

I pull back a little to wipe at my own tears. Our cheeks are pressed together lightly and I feel her lips graze against my ear when she speaks.

"This was a bad idea." She whispers, softly stroking my hair with her fingers.

I shake my head. "No. I'm okay. It's good."

"Brittany..." She retreats further to meet my eyes but her hand remains at the back of my head.

"No really. It's helping I think."

She half-smiles at my lame, false bravery. It makes me grin back through my tears. Her dark eyes are sparkling with what looks almost like adoration and for a split second, I actually wonder if she might lean forward across the short space that separates us to join our lips together.

But then she clumsily averts her gaze and removes her hands from body to brush some of her own hair behind her ear.

I frown, despite myself. I shouldn't be disappointed that she didn't kiss me, especially with the heavy tide of conflicting thoughts and emotions passing through me. But I am. The telling drop in my stomach leaves no room for doubt.

I take her hand back into mine on impulse. "Can we... can we go somewhere? There's something I wanna tell you."

Her eyebrows crease in thought but she doesn't question me.

"Okay."

"Okay." I repeat quietly after a beat and nod to myself. "I'll drive. I know a place nearby."

* * *

Santana throws me a curious look once I've shut the bike off and we're standing on the road, eyeing our surroundings.

I offer a reserved smile by way of explanation. "This way."

Turning and making a few strides towards the modest, Bunkie High football stadium, I can feel her following close at my back. It's just the same as it's always been. I cast a nostalgic eye at the old stand that bore witness to dozens of games and afterschool practices. And when I take in the shadows of the towering white goalposts at each end of the field, I feel a rush of familiarity.

It isn't until we're jumping clear over the high wire fences that bracket the stadium that an uneasy quiver chills my stomach. This football field may not have changed, but I'm certainly not the same naive cheerleader that last set foot on its pristine, manicured grass. I'm reminded - not for the first time that night - just how far removed this world now is from my own.

I gnaw at my bottom lip and attempt to contain my nerves as I lead Santana to the middle of the field, sitting down cross-legged on instinct. I notice my knees are shaking slightly, so I straighten my legs out in front of me while Santana raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think there's a game tonight Britt." She quips, breaking the silence.

I make a face at her and roll my eyes. "Ya think?"

She chuckles. "What are we doing here? I mean, I know you're technically still a teenager but we really don't need to sneak into the football stadium at night if you wanna smoke pot... I know a vamp who knows a vamp."

She smirks at me playfully and I can't contain a brief giggle before grabbing her by the wrist to pull her down next to me. "Shut up." I shoot her the best scolding expression I can muster. But I'm actually really glad for her teasing in that moment. It's soothing. It makes the tension in my muscles let up a bit.

Santana goes to ground without much resistance and begins getting comfortable on the grass the second I release her arm. She mirrors me with her legs straight out in front of her, before leaning back on her elbows and staring up at the night sky.

"So what's on your mind then, B?"

I sigh and slump down onto my own elbows beside her. I don't even know where to start. My nose scrunches in thought as I search for an opener that might make this conversation seem less ridiculous than it feels, but I can't come up with anything. Eventually, I give up and just say it. "I can hear people's thoughts." I rush out under my breath.

Santana gives me an amused look. "You can what?"

"I can hear thoughts... read minds... listen in on the stuff that people only say in their heads... I'm telepathetic or whatever."

"Telepathic?"

"Yeah." I nod. "I've been able to do it ever since I can remember."

Santana narrows her eyes warily in the silence that follows. It makes me squirm in place. I don't know if it's because she thinks I'm messing with her or because she doesn't like the implications behind what I've just revealed. Either way, it's not good.

Suddenly though, she lets out a sharp laugh. "You're kidding right?"

I frown. "No."

"What am I thinking then, Britt? Right now. Tell me what's going on in my head."

I want to glare at her for being obnoxious and for reacting exactly like I always imagined someone would react when I told them my secret. But then it occurs to me that I can't even prove myself. Not here, not with her. Embarrassed, I worry my bottom lip between my teeth once more and stare down at the grass cushioning my elbow. "I... I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. For some reason, I can't hear any vampires' thoughts."

Santana raises an eyebrow at me, seemingly relieved, but then laughs again. "How convenient."

It sparks an unexpected surge of frustration in me. "Stop it." I warn through clenched teeth. "I'm not crazy."

Santana seems caught off guard by my tone. "Britt..." She leans closer to touch my arm but I flinch away.

"I'm serious. Everyone always thought I was crazy. I don't need that from you too." My throat feels thick and tight. This isn't how I wanted this to go.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Do you have any idea what it was like to grow up this way? To have to pause every single time someone spoke and ask myself whether I was supposed to reply or not? Do you have any idea how confused and alone I felt? I had a bunch of strangers' thoughts swarming my brain, attacking my every waking moment..." I realize then that it's all pouring out at once and there's literally nothing I can do to stop it. I'm not even sure if I want to. "Nobody understood. Some people even picked on me... or laughed when I made a mistake and replied to something I'd only heard in my head."

The expression on Santana's face is much more solemn now. I'm still not sure if she believes me or not, but at least she seems to have gathered from my outburst that I'm not playing around.

"You can really read minds?"

"Yeah."

"Why? How?" Santana presses.

"I'm not sure. The only explanation my parents gave me when they found out about it was that it's just something that happens to certain people in our family... they said my gran could do it too." I run a hand through my hair dejectedly. "But other than that..." I sigh. "I... I have no idea why I'm like this... or what I am."

I glance up to see Santana's eyes have widened, like she seems to be figuring something out...

Could _she_ know what I am?

"That's why I freaked out earlier. I laughed because Quinn thought something really funny... and then I noticed that everyone was looking at me and I was scared that..." I cross my legs and turn my body to face her properly. "Santana... am I... do you think I'm a freak?"

Her brown eyes study my face. "No. You're not a freak."

"So you know what I am then? Some kinda supernatural thingy? Like a vampire, only not?" I ask, hopeful.

"Britt, if you actually _do _have this power... then I gotta be honest... I have no fucking clue what that means." Even though she's speaking to me, Santana's attention seems to be elsewhere. She's deep in thought.

I kind of wish I could hear what she's thinking so hard about. The quiet of her mind used to be peaceful, a break from the constant chatter of the human world... but now that quiet is deafening. Is she afraid? Shocked? Curious? It's impossible to tell.

There are long minutes of silence while Santana continues to brood. As I watch the pensive crinkle of her brow, I feel a mixture of relief from finally telling her the truth and a sense of dread brought on by her unusual, and totally unreadable, reaction.

Eventually though, she shakes her head and our eyes meet again.

"The sun will be up soon. We should start heading back."

And with that we're both up, exiting the stadium and climbing back onto the bike to begin our ride home.

* * *

When we get back to _Fangtasia_, most of the night's crowd is already scattering and making their way out. We cross the club and enter the back room, only to find Mike in Pam's chair, with Quinn sitting sideways on his lap and playing with his short, dark hair.

"I like it when it's all spikey." She muses in a sugary sweet tone, obviously unaware of our presence.

I don't even need to look over. I can practically feel the way Santana rolls her eyes in annoyance.

Mike spots us straight away though, smirking and nodding in our direction so that Quinn will stop fussing over him. She glares childishly when she catches sight of us.

"How was your evening, ladies?" Mike enquires.

"It was fine." I shrug.

"Get up to anything fun?"

"Not particularly." Santana folds her arms over her chest.

_Aww, what's wrong? Aren't you a happy puppy Santana? Did Brittany not take you for a walk in the park like you wanted? Growing dogs do need their exercise after all. _

When I hear Quinn revisit her canine imagery from earlier, I grin to myself. This is the perfect opportunity to show Santana that I wasn't fooling around. Then, regardless of whether her reaction is good or bad, at least it won't be one of doubt anymore. And I might actually get a proper glimpse of how she feels about my ability.

"Are you into bestiality or something Quinn?"

Quinn's eyes bug out at the unexpected question. "W-what? Why the hell would you ask me that?"

"Well you keep thinking about Santana being my dog. I was starting to wonder if you had some kind of fetish to be honest." I reply, keeping my tone nonchalant.

"I...I..." Quinn sputters. "How did you even...?" As she trails off, her mouth hanging open in disbelief, I feel Santana's equally wide eyes burning a hole in the side of my face.

I turn to her, smirk slyly and wink. Her parted lips and wrinkled eyebrows become even more pronounced as understanding sinks in.

_How the fuck is she doing that? She couldn't possibly be able to hear my what I'm thinking... could she?_

"Yes Quinn. I can." I give her a proud smile.

Just by the perfectly shocked and horrified expression on Quinn's face, I know Santana will be convinced after this little display.

"What the fuck are you guys talking about? Did I miss something?" Mike suddenly pipes up from next to Quinn. He couldn't look any more bewildered if he tried.

"It's nothing." I shrug with one shoulder and flip my hair a bit before turning my attention back to Santana. "Come on. Let's go downstairs. I'm tired."

I walk over to the basement door and throw it open without checking to see if she's following me. The sound of her footsteps on the stairs behind me is enough of an indication.

"Did you just...?" She asks as soon as we're standing in front of her coffin.

"Yep."

"You could seriously hear her thoughts?"

I laugh. "Yeah, I could."

"Shit..." She murmurs, still looking pretty stunned. Then her eyes dart up to lock with mine seriously. "I'm sorry I didn't-"

"It's okay." I shake my head dismissively, gesturing for her to lie down first. She complies and I slip in behind her to spoon her back. "It's not like I would have reacted any differently if I were you." I sigh, realizing that it's the truth.

"But I shouldn't have been such a dick about it. I mean-"

"Santana?" I interrupt. I can tell she's about to start up on a full blown explanation as to why she was acting so strange earlier... and as much as I'm dying to hear it, I notice that I'm just far too sleepy to take any of it in. My head is getting that super weird fuzzy feeling, almost prickly and kind of throbbing in my ears. I know that it's because the sun just rose over the horizon. We'll probably get _the bleeds_ soon if we don't rest. Or at least that's what Santana told me. "Can we talk about this tomorrow night?"

"Oh." Judging by her tone, she must be feeling it too. "Yeah. Sorry. Of course we can, Britt." She shuffles back into me slightly, tugs the coffin lid closed and then takes my arm so she can pull it over her body. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." I smile through the dark.

I'll have my answers tomorrow. That I know for sure. But for now, I'm just going to enjoy the feeling of calm that's settled in my chest.

Santana knows my secret. I was brave enough to not only tell her, but to also _show_ her exactly what I can do. I took that incredibly terrifying step and let her in. And while she might seem a bit wary and possibly even confused by it, she still somehow feels comfortable enough to want my arms around her while we sleep.

As far as I'm concerned, that's a win.

* * *

**A/N:**

*** _Elvira_ - A horror movie hostess/character**. **If you don't know her, google image will give you plenty of lovely, cleavage-y results.**

*** _The Bleeds_ – To quote the True Blood wiki, "If a vampire abstains from drinking blood, they will experience the "bleeds", during which the vampire will begin to bleed from their ears and nose (in addition, vampires experience the bleeds if they do not sleep during the day). The bleeds stop when the vampire feeds (or sleeps). If a vampire experiences the bleeds long enough, they will perish." **

**Finally, I'm going to apologize in advance for the fact that there will be another delay in updates. In a few days, I'm leaving for a 6-week vacation. So unfortunately I won't be writing again until I get back. **

**Huge thanks to everyone who is sticking with this story. I appreciate your patience more than you know =) **

**Long live Brittana. **


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